


For Reasons Unknown

by shuujinkos



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe, Lima Syndrome, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:46:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3930445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuujinkos/pseuds/shuujinkos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russia, 2009. With World War III raging on, Solid Snake falls into the hands of Russian soldiers, and it seems he's fated to become Major Raikov's new punching bag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rewriting this fic for a third time, please help me.  
> I won't delete it this time though! Won't delete it this time.

**URAL REGION, RUSSIA,**  
**NOVEMBER, 2009.**

Jack carded a hand through his hair. The mountains of paperwork piling on one end of his desk did little to calm his nerves. What did he even have to be nervous about? He was stationed in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by factories, hidden by forests and smoke. A single gold star glinted proudly between two red lines on his uniform. The promotion was nice, sure, but he felt a little, out of place behind a desk. He certainly felt as if this were a downgrade, sitting in the middle of the mountains in some resurrected outpost from the 19-who cares. There was also listening to higher ups, those not experiencing the world at face-value, who were constantly bustling with rumors and, God forbid, conspiracies.  
  
(He supposed, with his grandfather, he had always had to listen to crazy old men.)  
  
As a real soldier and not some pencil-pusher living out his life in an office, he didn't really have the guts to believe in nonsense like left-wing government conspiracies. Though, he couldn't really brag about the whole soldier title, as he had only really been in front for a year or so, but it was still weird to hear others address him so _formally._ He was just a Captain a couple days ago. The pressed, stiff clothes were something he'd just have to get used to, he supposed. Secretly, he missed when the only sound he could hear was his heart hammering in his ears and adrenaline dulled whatever fear he felt (or may the other way around?).

The mountains, the factories, the forest, the outpost, the uniform, the title. Everything was getting to him. Putting it shortly, he was dying of boredom, and he wasn't sure if the phrase was ironic in this situation or not.

Major Raikov blew fair bangs out of his eyes and fussed with them, tucking the longer strands behind his ears in a sad attempt to push the shorter ones into his hat. He wondered if he should get a haircut. He wondered when he would ever be told _to_ get a haircut. He scoffed, and continued to assume it was going to be never. Blue-green eyes hardened as he stared around his uncomfortably cozy office, empty aside from the papers he desperately wanted to just shred. It was nice, cushioned, heated, silent. He clicked his tongue. He belonged out on the field, not in here! His fingers itched to hold something other than a pen, and the Makarov on his belt was not going to cut it.

His dinky outpost and the ones neighbouring it were charged with taking in POWs and interrogating them, but with no worthwhile prisoners to question, it certainly failed to live up to his expectations. There was hardly anyone worth bringing in, and those who might have been found a way to kill themselves before they could even attempt to get anything out of them. In times like this, it was horrible to wish, but Jack just wanted _something_ exciting to happen. He was on the battlefield for a year, and now was reduced to drinking too much coffee in his office and ignoring calls from a certain Major Rodrigues.

A sharp knock to the door made Jack's shoulders jump. With a dry mouth, he called out permission to enter as he regained his composure; fixing his beret, and lacing his fingers together with his elbows on his desk. The door creaked open, and a lieutenant saluted him hastily. He tipped two fingers towards his temple in response.

"Major Raikov, sir."

"Lieutenant," Jack said shortly, nodding for him to go on. He took a second to catch his breath.

"We… There's something… Come with me, sir." Jack's eyes practically sparkled as he too quickly got up from his chair and rounded his desk to join the lieutenant at the door. He was middle-aged, broad shouldered, an entire head taller than him. His heart raced, thrumming in time to their footsteps as he was led through the drab corridors. The building was small enough to cross in a handful of minutes, with two short stories and an underground level where the holding cells and interrogation rooms were. He was glad he could keep a straight face, for what it was worth. Down a flight of stairs and behind a heavy door, the scenery changed from open office doors to empty cells.

In front of a cell in the center of the long hallway stood a captain and a corporal talking together, the corporal very animated. Hell if he knew anyone's names. That could come later, right? At the sight of the Major, their right hands snapped to their temples; as calmly as he could, Jack returned the salute. He stared straight at his soldiers, not immediately looking at who or _what_ was being held in the cell.

"We captured this American dog snooping around in the woods outside," the corporal spat, giving said 'American dog' the nastiest expression he'd ever seen on another person. His two accompanying officers gave him a stern look, but Jack was too excited to see to scold him any. If he was brought straight here, by someone looking so out of breath, it was something, someone exciting, wasn't it? He stepped closer, to get a better look at the man sitting cross-legged on the ground.

He was definitely, older, than Jack, just from looking at him. He had a face full of stubble, and a wise, experienced look about him. He had short brown hair, slightly overgrown in the back, with unkempt bangs that hung over a blue bandanna wrapped around his forehead. He was tan, and was glaring out at Jack with the most fantastic, clear, blue eyes he had ever seen. They stared right through him, and he had to almost, physically, tear himself away from that intense gaze. Jack turned to the captain and said something under his breath; the three officers left Jack alone in tension so thick he could feel it on his fingertips.

"Do you speak Russian?" Jack asked, in English, his accent thick, but not heavy enough to obscure his words, like in the movies. A sigh so soft it could barely be heard left his lips and he let a small, sly smile spread across his features. His hands itched, for, something.

"I do," the man in the cell said gruffly, shifting his shoulders. "You seem to speak English just fine, though." His hands were behind his back, no doubt cuffed, or hopefully, at least bound. A shiver ran down Jack's spine. He sounded like every burly, hyper-masculine action hero from American films he watched growing up. "You learn it in a nice university, Major?" asked the man in Russian, and Jack allowed himself to laugh. He held a gloved hand to his chin, cupping his face with his elbow rested in his other palm.

"Bilingual since grace school, _Amerikanskiy,"_ Jack said sweetly, in English still. They started intently into each other's eyes, silent for what must have been at least three solid minutes. Jack was unmoving, practically holding his breath. He knew this man. He _knew_ this man. The man resigned his hardened gaze to glare at the ground, and Jack felt a moment of pride. He had won the staring contest, at the very least. Jack took his hand from his cheek and rested it on a bar of the cell, leaning forward.

"We're going to have a lot of fun, you and I," Jack mused, slowly, carefully. His voice was, cold, or the closest thing he could get to it with the excitement bubbling in his chest. For an opportunity like this to rise to him, oh, he was blessed with more than his grandfather's status. The American returned his gaze with an eyebrow quirked. Jack's eyes glinted, gently, in the dull light of the basement, and his lips pressed into a hard line. Intimidation did not come to easily, and he felt very stiff.

"Look forward to it, pretty boy," he said in Russian. The Major's breath caught in his throat, and his ears burned. He straightened his beret and stormed off, leaving his prisoner smirking triumphantly in his cell. His footsteps slowed as he neared his office. Jack slipped in and pressed against the door, his shoulders shaking.

"Solid Snake, huh? What a nice surprise."


	2. Patience Gets Us Nowhere Fast

Against all better judgement, Jack did not sleep a wink that night.

The loud thunk of his face hitting the desk startled him out of any drowsiness he still felt. His beret tumbled to the floor as he sat up, rubbing the tender red circle in the center of his forehead. He dragged bleary eyes towards the clock mounted on the wall to his left. 0700 sneered back at him, tormented him, and Jack rubbed his eyes purely out of irritation. It wasn't like sleepless nights were something new to him, but there was something about doing _absolutely_ nothing for, about 12 hours, that was getting to him. Sure, he was doing his paperwork, but what the hell kind of entertainment was that? This was a different kind of grogginess from the all nighters he was used to pulling, kept awake by the pounding of his heart. This was just pure, unadulterated _dread_ for the rest of the day, seeping through him entirely, darkening the already prominent circles under his bright blue-green eyes.

Jack leaned back in his chair with his arms stretched high above his head, pushing away from his desk. With a loud yawn, he rose from his seat and circled the desk to head towards the door. A shower and a cup of coffee would surely wake him right up. He reached for the doorknob, which swung away from him as the door was yanked open by (a corporal?) someone else. Jack and the soldier blinked at each other, before he straightened himself out and snapped a salute, clearing his throat.

"Major, the prisoner-" Jack's hand wrapped around his Makarov and yanked it from its holster before the man could finish speaking and he shoved passed, darting down the hall. It took him that long to escape? He masked the rush of excitement that was washing over him as he ran the map of the facility through his head. Snake was a fool if he thought he could get out of Jack Raikov's grip so easily. He considered the idea that maybe he had tried to salvage his equipment, but it was unlikely; he sent the soldier struggling to keep up with him to check just in case. Jack slipped out of the building through a side door, heart racing in his throat.

"Freeze."

A gun pressed to the back of his head. A Makarov, no doubt stolen from a guard who was probably passed out in front of Snake's empty cell. Jack went motionless, finger frozen on the trigger guard. His breath stilled.

"Drop your weapon."

Jack clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and slowly nodded his head.

" _Da, da,_ " Jack muttered as he carefully crouched down to rest his gun on the ground at his feet. He hesitated before standing and turning to face Snake. By the look on his face, he had not slept either. The barrel of the gun pressed to his forehead. Snake's finger rested on the trigger guard; he had absolutely zero intent to kill Jack. He bit back the smirk, trying his best to keep himself from appearing cocky. "You are going to kill me?"

"Not my style, kid," Snake said, and Jack's lip twitched. _Kid?_ He narrowed his eyes and bit back his pride. He could see the scene play out perfectly in Snake's favour; he would keep the gun trained on him as he slowly moved around him and disappeared into the woods. It would have happened exactly that way, too, had Jack not pressed the buckle on his belt while he set his gun on the ground. The soldiers inside had already been alerted that he was in danger, and two of them had already silently opened the door behind them. Even still, Snake's eyes trailed from Jack as if he could see over his shoulder.

"Drop your weapon," echoed the two soldiers. Jack held his breath until the barrel of the gun fell from his skin. The gun hit the ground as Snake held his hands up, focusing those brilliant, intense blue eyes on Jack. He smirked and put a hand to his hip as his body relaxed.

"We have these, nifty little belts," Jack explained smugly, "They are fitted with distress transmitters in the buckles." He tilted his head to the side, quelling the laughter bubbling in his throat at the aggravated expression forming on Snake's face. "Very useful." Snake did not speak, only grit his teeth harder. Jack nudged his chin forward and one of the soldiers pulled Snake's arms behind his back to cuff him. He snapped a command to tighten security in Russian as the two men led Snake back into the building. Jack's shoulders drooped after the door shut, after he was alone, and he raked a hand through his hair with a loud sigh.

It was far too early for this.

  
Once he had breakfast and approximately three cups of coffee under his belt, a freshly washed face, and the time was finally in the double digits, Jack felt a lot more willing to take on the challenge of dealing with a certain Solid Snake. He still was not up to dealing with several annoying text messages, but interrogating a war hero was certainly a task he could manage. That was not to say Jack thought it would be easy by any stretch; this man was trained to resist unthinkable extents of torture and all Jack had was his fists and his gun. He thought that they should have been more, properly equipped for this, but hey, he wasn't going to complain for real.

Jack clicked his tongue at himself in the mirror in the cramped bathroom shoved into the corner of his office. He tied his hair back with a sigh and placed his beret carefully on his head before exiting the closet-sized room. He made his way down the steps quite leisurely; the left side of the hallway was lined with empty cells, and the right was fitted with a handful of interrogation rooms and an office by either door. He yawned as he stood in front of room 101. They were drab rooms, really, with only a single bar of fluorescent light and a metal table that looked like it was going to rust and fall apart on the spot, paired with two equally horrible chairs. He made a noise in the back of his throat upon opening to door to find the room was empty.

He bent backwards out of the room and glared down the hall, an audible groan ripping out of his throat. How had he not noticed the two soldiers collapsed in the middle of the hallway? Did he have to do everything by himself? Jack slammed the door shut and stormed over to Snake's cell, a heavy glare set on the man sitting smugly on the floor, his hands still behind his back. Jack narrowed his eyes, raised his eyebrows, and kept his distance. An unlit cigarette sat between Snake's lips, and he grinned with his teeth.

"You should teach your men not to give prisoners anything," said Snake, and Jack's blood _boiled._ He clenched and unclenched his fists. Snake must have felt so God damned accomplished; all he had done was inconvenience him! Though he supposed, that was a great achievement for a prisoner. Jack removed his beret to brush his bangs out of his eyes and replaced it, putting his hand on his hip.

"What is that?" Jack asked in irritation.

"Sleeping gas cigarette," Snake said with a shrug of his shoulders. He looked down to the soldiers at his feet and snarled, giving them both a rough kick to the gut in hopes of waking them up. One stirred, realised the situation he was in, and scrambled to his feet, saluting Jack. He cracked the back of his hand across the soldier's face, shouting at him in Russian for their carelessness. The soldier apologised profusely and stooped down to gather his comrade and dragged him off to the office by the exit. Jack felt like his sighs were getting heavier by the hour. He glanced at the still smug Snake in his cell.

"You cause too much trouble in only a couple of hours," Jack growled.

" _Spasibo._ " Jack suppressed the loudest groan of his life and stomped off. Empty handed he was not much help to the situation, if he could not even get close with that cigarette in play. He could shoot him in the head…

Jack swore under his breath. As much as he hated to admit, he was _far_ too spoiled to not get his way. He ran into a group of soldiers chatting outside their offices and spat commands out like venom, watching them scatter like rats.

  
"No, no, I'd really prefer if you do _not_ visit," Jack sighed into his phone, wedged between his ear and his shoulder. He drummed his fingers impatiently against the edge of his desk; answering these incessant calls was probably the worst idea he had had since he left his office this morning. Maybe he should change his number? God knows his grandfather would just hand it out like candy. "I've got a lot on my hands right now, Sam, I'm sure you-" his mouth all but snapped shut, teeth clicking when he was interrupted. His eyebrow twitched. This guy…

A knock and a call of "Major?" sounded from his door and he thanked the stars, hurriedly calling for whoever it was to come in. At last, his saving grace.

"I have to go now, we'll talk about this later. No, I'll call you, Major." The door opened as he was slipping his phone back into his pocket. He eyed the soldier in the doorway, whose arm was already up in a salute. God, was that going to get less annoying? "Is he behaving?" A nod.

Jack huffed and stood up from his desk, fitting his beret on his head and hiding a yawn behind his hand. He cast a weary gaze to the clock, secondhand ticking just past 1300. This day was so _long._ He dismissed the soldier at the door and stalked off by himself, retracing his steps from just an hour earlier. Behind the door was like a scene from any nitty-gritty cop movie with an interrogation scene. So, most of them. Jack grimaced and nodded his dismissal of the two soldiers flanking Snake, making sure he was behaving. Snake watched them leave with a curious expression, and Jack watched them leave warily. Not a word was spoken until the heavy metal door was shut tight.

"So you're one of those guys who likes to do things alone," Snake said, stating the absolute obvious. Jack removed his hat and tucked it into his belt for the time being. He made his way to the table, setting gloved hands to the back of the chair opposite of Snake. He pressed his lips together and searched his face. With a sigh, he sat down, folding one leg over the other knee. He laced his fingers together, elbows on the table. "You sure that's safe?" Jack's lip curled, and he wasn't sure if he was disgusted or felt like laughing.

"Are you underestimating me, Snake?" Jack asked, with a tired sort of coldness in his voice, blue-green eyes narrowed. Snake shrugged his shoulders and there was a brief moment of silence.

"So you do know me."

"You are easy to recognise," Jack said, jerking his thumb towards his forehead. Of course he would recognise Solid Snake when the man went around with that wretched blue bandanna wrapped around his forehead all the time. They stared each other down, Jack's chin tilted up _just_ slightly so they were eye level with one another. Jack could feel that same tension from last night, except he didn't really feel like he was owning it this time. A frown set on Jack's face, and he sighed, setting his chin on his hands. He opened his mouth, but Snake spoke first.

"Are all our meetings just going to be staring contests?" Jack's lip twitched. He sat back and folded his hands in his lap, pondering. "I'm a little disappointed."

"You'll have to forgive me, I'm distracted," Jack said wryly, "It's almost too good to be true, you know, capturing a hero such as yourself." Snake looked away and Jack could practically hear him grind his teeth. A sore subject, huh?

"I'm no hero." Jack eyed him for a moment before standing up, slowly taking off his gloves and setting them neatly on the back of the chair.

"I suppose that's… Enough small talk for now. I have work to do."

"So do I. Be great if you could let me do it." Jack laughed before he could catch it and shook his head.

"Too funny," Jack said as he cracked every knuckle individually. "I'd be delighted to hear about your work. I'm a big fan, after all." Snake gave a cocky smirk as the major rounded the table. Jack had his fist cranked back before Snake could open his mouth.

"Not a chance."

  
It did not occur to Solid Snake that he was blacked out, dangerously close to drowning in his own blood, until the chair he was bound to was ripped upwards— _he_ was ripped upwards, and he was spitting up blood and bile on the floor between his legs. His ears filled with ringing and the sound of his own ragged gasps, and he turned a blurry gaze to whoever it was that had pulled him up. It certainly was not the major. He glared as he got a hold of himself, arms aching with relief after being crushed underneath the chair and his own weight. How long had he been lying on the floor? His head and his ribs throbbed with every, second. The soldier spoke to him in Russian, asked if he was back in the land of the living.

Snake—no, David all but growled in response. He shook his reeling head and gave an obedient, " _da_ ". He sucked in a breath through grit teeth as he was hauled out of the chair, flinching pathetically. The soldier laughed at him, at his pain, and Snake wanted very badly to punch him between the eyes. The handcuffs clinked as he strained his wrists. He was flanked on all sides but his front, an AK pressed into his back as he was led back to his cell again.

David sat on the edge of the sad excuse for a bed and, after much difficulty, looped his arms in front of himself. He sprawled out on his back, inspecting the welts and bruises surfacing beneath his skin. That major was a hell of a lot stronger than he looked. He glared up at the ceiling, but was genuinely surprised the only place he was bleeding was his face. A cut lip, a bloody nose. He even had all of his teeth still. He sighed, sat up gingerly, and pulled his shirt down. He missed his sneaking suit.

David tried to remember when the major had left the room. When he had blacked out. When he even ended up on the floor, but his memory was blank. He remembered their small talk, he remembered being pummeled, by questions as well as physically, but he must have clocked out for the day far too quickly. Had he hit his head hard when the chair fell? He reached up and felt the back of his head, and he couldn't say he was surprised when he found dried blood.

That answered that question.

He gently brushed the skin behind his ear almost longingly; when he had first arrived, before the major had even been brought to him, they had injected him with something that rendered nanocommunication (and possibly nanomachines period) absolutely ineffective. He almost felt lonely. He wanted to laugh at himself. Him, lonely, right. He wondered if they were in a frenzy back in the States, now that their precious Perfect Soldier was out of reach? He leaned against the wall and set his cuffed hands in his lap.

At least he was still limber enough to be able to get his hands in front of him. His shoulders ached so terribly with the strain of being forced behind his back all day. David grunted, laughed at himself for real. All day. He had only been here a day.

He was starting to feel like maybe he was getting too old for this shit.

It had been early afternoon when the major had beaten the ever living hell out of him, or so he assumed, so he could only wonder what time it was now. He was not exactly proficient at keeping time without a means to do so, he only remembered it had been very early when he managed to briefly escape. So what time was it now? The major could not have spent much time wailing on him, maybe not even more than an hour. It begged the question to how long he had been lying there on his back. Thankfully not long enough to actually choke and drown in his blood. David clicked his tongue and shifted sore shoulders against the wall. A guard passed.

" _Kotoriy chas_?" David growled at the soldier. He turned to look at him and even through his balaclava David could tell he raised his eyebrows. He stopped and rolled up his sleeve to glance at the watch on his wrist.

"1400." David groaned. Well, he was thankful, he supposed, since he didn't drown. He was also informed he was to be fed at 1800. David gave a sarcastic " _spasibo_ " before he leaned his head back against the wall. He shifted uncomfortably. All the brains in the world and he was still shit at coming up with decent escape plans. Not like he had any ketchup on hand. He smirked slightly, his eyes wandering to the ceiling.

He could go for a smoke.

  
Major Raikov tied his hair up higher before starting to scrub blood from his uniform. His knuckles throbbed. Jack ground his teeth together. He had never seen such an unwillingness to break, or die, in his life! Anyone he even dared to hurt would just, kill themselves. A barrage of swears left his lips as he relentlessly tried to pull the set blood stains from the sleeves of his uniform. There wasn't even that much blood, but he would have rather washed it himself than sent it off to get dry cleaned. That was far too much work and far too much time.

He figured he looked rather odd, though, standing in his telnyashka, scrubbing his uniform in the bathroom sink. Jack sighed, resigning far too quickly. He at least had other jackets. He looked himself in the mirror and narrowed his eyes. There was a single speck of blood on his pale cheek. Jack rubbed it off with his already wet thumb. He dried his hands and with his soggy jacket slung over his shoulder, he stormed back to his office.

Once the door was shut, he leaned against it and heaved the heaviest sigh he had all day. It was still only afternoon, and all he wanted was a drink and to go to sleep. He opted for only the latter, ducking into the small side room where his bed was. He sat down, kicked off his boots, and was asleep before he could count to ten.

He did not wake up until the next morning.

  
"Good morning, starshine," Snake said when he approached his cell. "The Earth says 'hello'." Jack tipped his nose up and tried to hide his satisfaction towards the bruise around Snake's eye, the slight crookedness to his nose, and the cut on his lip. His knuckles practically started throbbing just imagining all the other welts hidden by Snake's clothes. The feeling of _The_ Solid Snake helpless underneath his clenched fist was… Strangely amazing. Jack's eyes flashed and he stared at his prisoner, not speaking.

The realisation that he was not going to get anything out of his man washed over him in heavy, constant waves of nausea. Maybe Snake would break. Maybe _he_ could break Snake.

"Same time today," Jack muttered to the guard next to him and shot Snake a glare. Snake smirked at him, and Jack almost jumped into the cell and strangled that look right off his face.

When the time came, they were right back to glaring at each other across the table. Jack made sure to remove his jacket this time.

"You look like you could use a drink." Jack wrinkled his nose. Of course he did. What excitement he had first felt when Snake was brought to him was completely gone and he was hating every moment of this. The only people he had ever really interrogated were grunts who would rather, well, _die,_ than anyone willing to take a beating for their fucking country. His mind wandered, again, to trying to get his hands on something. Maybe he could just start pistol whipping him. Jack shook his head. "And I could use a smoke." He snorted.

"Those things will kill you," Jack said lightly. He already had a headache.

"So will you," Snake said. Jack shrugged his shoulders.

"If it comes to that, _da,_ I will."

Jack was standing.

"Do you enjoy this?" Snaked asked, genuinely. The bruise around his eye almost glistened, and Jack couldn't help but think it was pretty.

"Only as much as you," Jack answered with a curl of his lip. "If I really wanted to enjoy myself, you would not be cuffed." Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair, taking it from its ponytail. "Alas, I am nervous. I don't think I would stand a chance against _The_ Solid Snake." It was Snake who snorted this time.

"From what you've shown me, I think you could hold your own. I'm not a superhero or anything." Jack chuckled and he was pushing his chair under table.

"You're quite modest," Jack said.

"So are you." Jack smiled.

"Touché."

If he were to tell the truth, Jack actually _did_ enjoy this, a lot more than he would even let on. Going to work on Solid Snake was something interesting. To find out what kind of punches elicited the loudest sounds of pain, from such a stoic, unrelentingly stubborn man. He would drink in this power while it lasted. He would drain this man of his last drop of blood if he needed to. Solid Snake was not a man to commit suicide for his country, but he was willing to _die._

He wanted to savour the shudders of adrenaline that coursed through him as Solid Snake glared at him with those eyes, as his blood stained Jack's knuckles. The dull thud of every punch, the rock of the chair onto its back legs. The frantic look in Snake's eyes when it tipped too far back, and the wind getting knocked out of his lungs as Jack grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him forward into a punch just to keep him from toppling over.

He almost forgot to care about getting information from Snake, because all he could focus on was the rush of excitement, the rush of power, the rush of arousal.

_...Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translationsssss  
> "da" is "yes"  
> "spasibo" is "thank you"  
> "kotoriy chas" is "what time is it?"


	3. Black Eyes

For a week, David saw his cell, room 101, and Major Jack Raikov's clouded, hazy face.

Thankfully, the major didn't knock him out every single day. In fact, he didn't knock him out at all. Most of the time, the major would stop very abruptly, and stare at him, and the only sound would be their ragged breathing. Then he would quickly take up his gloves, hat, and jacket, and storm out of the room. Whatever his problem was, David was genuinely thankful that he was much less sore than he imagined he would be. Not the mention just being _alive_ was surprising in itself.

He drew his knees to his chest and looped his cuffed hands around them, resting them on his boots. Maybe there was something on the major's mind? Half the time Raikov gave up on questioning him and vented his frustrations on David's face. He snorted. Was he this kid's prisoner, or his punching bag? He rested his head back against the wall, searching the ceiling as if it could tell him something. As if it could tell him anything.

A soldier came and knocked on the bars with his AK to alert him. David glared at him, until he realised he was bringing him food. Wiping the look off his face, he held his hands up in surrender, keeping them above his head as the soldier warily unlocked the cell. Food tray in one hand, AK trained on him in the other; he set the tray at the food of the bed and practically bolted out, fumbling with the keys to fasten the lock back on. At least they were afraid of him.

They looked at each other for a moment.

"You get us in trouble when you do that," the soldier mumbled in perfect English, making a gesture of putting his arms in front of himself. David grinned wryly, grabbing up the bread roll and stuffing it in his mouth.

"Tough luck. You wanna feed me?" The guard shook his head and he stalked off, another one replacing him within seconds.

With more time with his thoughts than he would have liked, he was left wondering if that first morning had been a fluke. Had they underestimated him? Was it possible these men didn't know who he was until their precious major told them? Raikov _had_ told them to tighten security, and they were doing a hell of a job. Every time he got an idea, after enough thought, he realised it wouldn't work. He really should have thought about the gas cigarette thing more thoroughly. He could be back in Alaska by now if he had. Without his gear, he was a sitting duck. David grumbled around the rest of his roll.

He was going to spend another damn night in this place not sleeping, not smoking, and trying to think of a good way to get out without getting himself shot. He didn't like getting shot. He had briefly considered giving up, always something edging him in the back of his mind, but the idea only had one kind of outcome. If he gave in, he was useless to either side, and he did _not_ like the idea of being killed or left to rot once he opened that can of worms. He groaned and downed the water he was given in one go.

He was Solid Snake, God damnit, and he should start acting like it.

  
Major Raikov closed the door behind him and rested so hard against it he felt he could have broken it down. His shoulders tensed almost painfully as he glared forward, lips pressed into a hard line. He snatched his beret from his head and ran a hand crusted with dried blood through his hair; flakes of red chipped off into platinum locks, but he found it hard to care when he had a shower in his office. Jack stared pointedly at the floor, as if it could tell him something. As if it could tell him anything.

Could this even be called interrogation anymore? He was just playing a game at this point. A game of how much restraint he could show. A game of how long he could beat someone senseless until they cracked. Until _he_ cracked. It was not a fun game, and it was not a game he was currently winning. Jack ground his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut.

_"Being stubborn is going to get you nowhere."_

_"But it will also get you nowhere, and that's the plan."_

Shaking his head, he pushed off the door and wandered to his desk to sit down, legs trembling and head swimming. The cushioned leather of his chair was God sent on his entire being. High strung was definitely not a fitting emotional state for him. He hadn't been this stressed since, well, he didn't want to think about that. There were a few scattered papers that needed signatures, things he needed to read over and approve, but he did not trust his shaking hands with a pen. He pushed them around with his fingers, eyes unfocused.

_"Aren't you going a little easy on me?"_

_A smirk, with teeth stained with blood._

_"I can't beat you unconscious every day, now, can I?"_

Blue-green eyes swept the room, empty, clean, uncomfortably silent, aside from the thrumming of the furnace. His shoulders slumped and he tilted his head back, tilted his chair back. He needed to relax. He needed to unwind. He paused, eyeing the ceiling. Jack slipped his phone out of his pocket and left it on the desk; it rang almost immediately and with reflexes like lightning he snatched it back up. He held his phone above his head to read the message, blurry text on a tiny LED screen glaring back at him. His irritation knew no bounds. This was not helping.

He put it back on the desk.

_"Preferably not."_

_"There's an easy solution for… Both of us, you know."_

Surely he was making a bigger deal out of this than he should have. Excitement got the best of everyone, right?

He stared blankly at his phone sitting silently on his desk, and then at his hands, stained with blood that was certainly not his. His knuckles were still throbbing. How long did it take for his heartbeat to stop coursing through his entire body so violently? Was it something else he was just going to have to get used to? He exhaled, shakily. Washing up was definitely a thought he had, but he couldn't will himself out of his chair.

Not… Yet.

_"You were so eager to beat the hell out of me, and now you're trying to be persuasive?"_

_"I didn't think it could hurt."_

Gaze fixed on the ceiling, Jack slowly slumped further into the chair. He needed to _relax._ He slowly licked his lips and stroked one thumb over the top of his other hand. He needed to _unwind._ A slow, steady sigh left him, blue-green eyes closed, and he was undoing his belt without thinking.

_"I never thought I would be underestimated by a pretty boy like you, Major."_

It hardly occurred to him to lock the door, or even go to the room connected to his office. Jack's mind wandered; he shifted his hips to tug down his pants, just enough, and gently stroked himself through his boxers. His lips parted to let out soft, even breaths, as his fingers dipped under the fabric.

It was, bothering him, how much he liked hearing it. ( _Pretty boy._ ) In that voice, the condescending, cocky tone. He had been treated like a prince his entire life, it was downright embarrassing to enjoy being _mocked._ He repeated it in his head, over and over.

_Pretty boy._

Jack covered his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to muffle the shuddering whines escaping him. The smell of blood was, faint, but focusing elsewhere was not a problem he was currently faced with. He pulled his cock into open air and brushed his fingers along the length. A low hum rumbled in his throat, and he had to plant his feet firmly on the floor to keep himself from slipping any further down in his chair. His ears burned, and he swore softly, pressing the back of his hand against his teeth as his voice started to climb in volume. Jack's hand moved faster, his breath clipped, his knees spread further apart as he moaned against his bloodstained knuckles.

" _Snake-!_ "

The second the name left his lips in a desperate moan, his phone began to ring and vibrate on the desk. Jack all but stood up, shooting upright and slamming his hands down on the desk so hard it stung. He grabbed his phone, panting, red in the face, and glared at the name of the caller blinking at him. He unceremoniously shoved his hard-on back into his boxers and took a few short breaths to calm himself. Jack flipped open the phone and waited a brief second before speaking.

"Major Rodrigues," Jack said with all the composure in the world, "I thought I said I would call you." He leaned back in his chair, ruffling his hair with an exasperated sigh.

"I'm a little caught up in things right now," he switched ears, glared at his crotch in some sort of attempt to will away his arousal. "Like I was telling you, it's just a bad time. And I'm sure you have your own things to worry about…" This guy's voice drove him up the wall. Jack just wanted to tell him to act like an adult for once in his damn life. He could hardly believe they shared rank.

"I can't tell you," Jack said with a frown, slowly running his hand down his chest, shivering at his own touches. He stroked himself through the fabric of his pants. He boredly stared forward, tuning out the other major as he yapped on in his ear. His lip twitched. God…

"Look, I-" Still composed, good. " _-Listen!_ N… No, Sam," he groaned, thankful he was equal parts exasperated and horny. "The answer is no." He paused, gritting his teeth, rubbing his thumb over the head of his cock. "Goodbye." He snapped the phone shut and threw his head back, letting out a moan, shoulders shuddering in relief. He was glad it was the phone that interrupted him and not the door. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if someone caught him like this, let alone moaning the prisoner's fucking _name._

Jack hunched over the desk, shoving his hand back into his boxers, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it hard and fast. He ground his teeth together and came after a minute or two with a pathetic whine. He pulled his hand out and glared at it, before moving his tired gaze to the clock. He sighed heavily.

Maybe, instead of "unwinding" he should just rest. He moved from his desk to his room and shut himself up for the night.

What the _hell_ had gotten into him?

  
Jack awoke to the sound of his door creaking open. His eyes darted to the clock; it was barely two in the morning. He held his breath and tried to quietly reach for the pistol at his bedside. Was this some kind of sick karma?

"I don't think so." Snake's voice cut through the silence and he froze. Of… Course. He lay still and pinned his eyes to the dark silhouette that was Snake, praying for his eyes to adjust quicker to the dark. He could not stand being surrounded by darkness. Snake moved closer, gun trained on him; he put a knee on the bed and the gun to the side of Jack's head.

"You escaped again…" Jack breathed, irritated. It had meant to be a question. He could barely see Snake give him that god awful, shit-eating grin. His fingers twitched under the covers. He wanted to spring out of bed and grab Snake by the neck, but even if he was nicknamed after a god of lightning due to his fast reflexes, a point-blank bullet was faster than lightning. He grit his teeth.

"I am _The_ Solid Snake," Snake said. Cocky son of a bitch. Jack was going to _scream._ He inhaled slowly, and let it out just as slowly. The cold metal of the gun felt eerily soothing against his temple. Neither of them said anything. Snake made no offensive movements.

"I thought you didn't kill people," Jack whispered. Snake's eyes practically glinted in the dark room. The barrel slid down, just barely, on his skin, and it made him shiver. He almost closed his eyes, but he did not dare look away from Snake's face. Jack glared through the dark.

"I don't," Snake said, gently, pressing his lips into a hard line. Silence stretched, and Jack felt the sincerity (or, hesitation) roll off of Snake in waves. That was his cue. His arm shot up and he grabbed Snake's wrist, pulled the gun from his forehead. He sat up, twisting Snake's arm behind his back so hard he fell to his knees. He spun the gun in his hand. Faster than either of them could blink. Snake grunted.

"Hesitation will get you killed," Jack said icily.

"But you're not going to kill me." It was not a cocky statement. It was a statement only someone like Snake could make. His finger twitched over the trigger, but he did not pull it.

Jack stared at the back of Snake's head and the silence stretched longer. A lieutenant appeared in the doorway, calling for Jack, but he stopped midway.

"I… See you've already found out," he said in sort of a joking tone, relaxing his stance and pointing his gun at the ground. Jack glared daggers and kicked Snake onto his face, keeping his wrist pinned to his back with his foot. Snake did not even breathe. He pointed the stolen Makarov at the lieutenant, who held his hands up defensively.

"How did this happen?" Jack asked calmly, in Russian. The lieutenant paled and didn't answer. He twitched his hand barely to the side and pulled the trigger, shot firing into the door next to the soldier's face. He snarled an order and the soldier all but ran off. Snake didn't budge a single centimetre. Jack looked down his nose at his captive and ground his teeth. He stooped down and pressed the gun to the back of his head, speaking low to Snake's mess of brown hair.

"Next time, I _will_ shoot you."

Snake stared into the ground with a bleak look on his paled face.

 

David shifted against the added rope wrapped around his arms, his hands cuffed behind his back, tighter than before. It was little bits of freedom that he was starting to appreciate, but they were all taken from him in a flash. Rope was not much of a challenge by itself, but he could not say he was comfortable. The cuffs were threatening to cut into his skin with the wrong sort of movement. He couldn't even roll his wrists to rid them of the stiffness.

He would admit, that had gone a lot less smoothly than he had intended it to. In all honesty, he also was not expecting to get that far in the first place. Sure, it had been two in the morning, but security was usually tighter at night. Maybe he just had good timing. He snorted. Right, good timing, like that was something he was _ever_ blessed with. David sighed almost a little too loudly.

He would probably get it extra hard today for stepping out of line. David wrinkled his nose and laughed to himself. What was he doing here?

  
Major Raikov wiped specks of blood from his face with the back of his hand, only smearing it across his pale cheek in the process. His breathing was just barely evening out; he always seemed to get so worked up and bent out of shape when he was, _interrogating_ Snake. He looked down at Snake, who was barely holding on to his consciousness at this point, the chair tipped over leaving him on his side. A little overboard, maybe. He recalled knocking him out the first day and disregarded his thoughts.

Snake coughed, curling up defensively. Jack turned on his heel to leave.

"You always… Leave without trying to ask me anything." Eyebrow raised, he slowly turned back to stare at Snake, who was fixing him a less-than-fierce look. Jack strolled over and rolled Snake onto his back, pressing down on the chair with his foot between Snake's legs. Snake grunted. Jack wrinkled his nose.

"Because I know you won't talk," Jack said coldly.

"Then why don't you kill me?" Snake asked. Jack's mouth opened before sound decided to come out. Realising he would look really stupid if he sat there with his mouth hanging open, he closed it, contemplating an an answer.

"You. Are a good punching bag," he admitted. Snake narrowed his eyes, and Jack let up on the chair, hauling it up before he turned to the door.

"Next time… Tomorrow, I mean. Uncuff me." Jack narrowed his eyes but didn't look back to him. He found himself smirking. Almost started shaking, in fact. He didn't know if he was excited or scared, but this was _different._ He took a moment to respond, tossing words around in his head.

"Is this a challenge?" Snake laughed, and his breath hitched in his throat, sending him into a coughing fit. He spit blood out onto the floor, doubling over in his chair. Jack grabbed the handle and laughed to himself, too, and waited for Snake's fit to die down. "Even though you are in no state to be fighting after all of this?"

" _Da_ ," Snake grunted, confidently. Jack lost his smirk and he glared at the door.

"Fine. Tomorrow, then."


	4. Dread In My Heart

Without meaning to, Jack did not sleep a wink that night. The past week had been such hell on his sleep schedule, he wondered if we would ever sleep normally again. A soft sigh left the major as he removed himself from his bed, pulling his fair hair back into a ponytail. It was certainly not excitement, or nerves. It was most definitely a heavy, overwhelming feeling of dread, sinking into the pit of his stomach and hardening like a rock. The idea of going one on one in a fist fight with Solid Snake was not a good one.

Jack was good, at fighting. He was not foreign to CQC, and he could hold his own against men twice his size, but that didn't mean anything, this was _THE Solid Snake!!_ He dragged a hand down his groggy face, scanning his office from the doorway of his room. Major Raikov couldn't think of a single thing he wanted to do less than see Snake today. Die, maybe? No, even that sounded better. He genuinely thought about it, laughing when he resorted to "talking to Sam." Yeah, that would suffice.

He pushed away from the door frame to get a good look at the clock, hanging on the wall. Ticking away as it read 0600 and Jack could only groan. Would these sleepless nights ever cease to haunt him? Could he escape whatever feeling was plaguing him? He thought, briefly, about his, _relaxation,_ and his stomach rolled over. What even _was_ plaguing him, besides the overwhelming desire to jump Snake in an entirely different way than normal?

" _Mudak_ ," Jack muttered aloud, dragging himself to his closet sized bathroom and forcing himself to get ready. Everything could be solved with shower and a coffee. Or three. He showered, quickly, and dressed lazily. He desperately wanted another way to dry his hair rather than just toweling it until he wasn't dripping. He brushed damp strands obsessively as he examined himself for a long while in the mirror. It wasn't like he was in any rush, and he caught himself wondering how much sleep it would take to get rid of the dark, purple bags under his eyes.

How was he supposed to look, official, if he just looked _dead_?

After washing his face another time, he resigned himself to his desk in his pants, belt undone, and a towel around his neck. The already stiff air combined with the muggy, steamy air curling out from the bathroom made it hard to breath.

Jack kicked his feet on top of his desk and pulled his phone from the drawer. He made a bad habit of not charging it overnight, simply turning it off and chucking it in the drawer. He turned it on, boredly staring towards the door while it booted up. He didn't use his phone very often and only needed to charge it every once in awhile anyway. He ran his thumb over the keyboard and hit "1" and then "call". He held the phone to his ear with his heart being the only sound he could hear. The line clicked as the recipient answered; his lips parted before he said anything, and all he could do was sigh.

" _Dedushka_ ," Jack said tenderly, "I need advice…"

  
Rendering Jack unable to move would be the easiest fight in his life. Yet, David spent the time he didn't spend sleeping thinking about if this was really such a good idea. Beat the kid a little more than senseless, use him as a human shield... What even was his plan after that? Find his gear and high tail it out of here, major in hand? Kill him and everyone else in the base? That wasn't something he wanted to resort to. It wouldn't be the first time. David's stomach churned.

He sighed, laying on his side, facing the wall, clear eyes desperately searching for answers he knew he couldn't find. What the hell else could he do? Trying to take everyone out seemed like a horrible idea. Getting to his gear without being seen would be near impossible, so some people would probably have to die. Once he had his M9 he could just send everyone off to dreamland and escape, and… Then what?

It begged the question, though, of how long did he need to draw Major Raikov along with him as a shield? All the way out of Russia? Maybe there was somewhere he could get to a safe spot to get extracted, which…

_Requires contacting Campbell. Hell._

He wondered what it was exactly that they injected him with. Obviously, some kind of nanomachine suppressant… Was it something that wore off, or something with a serum? His lip twitched. Probably some good questions to ask his dear Major Raikov. Snake groaned. There was another problem on his mind...

There was a very small chance anyone outside of this outpost would give a rat's ass about the pretty boy major stationed in the middle of nowhere. Hell, he wasn't quite sure the soldiers here necessarily _cared_ about Jack Raikov; they all exhibited some sort of hollow respect for the kid. He wasn't sure if these men were irritated by being subordinate to a younger officer, or if it was something else entirely. He could have even been hallucinating it. He doubted anyone outside this place knew his name. David shifted his shoulders and sighed, sitting back up and bringing his knees to his chest.

If he did manage to escape with the major in hand, though, he could find some place to hide out and interrogate him. After all, he _was_ infiltrating for information, and surely the major had to know something. He _had_ to know _something._ In all honesty, this had been the most bare-bones mission he had ever been sent on, so in the end it wasn't much of a shock that he managed to fuck it up so bad. Reconnaissance was the mission, but what was it he was supposed to be reconnoitering? What information was he supposed to be retrieving from Russia?

A yawn stretched his face; tears welled in his eyes and he looked around slowly, blinking them away. Kidnapping the major was starting to look like a good plan. It seemed like the most solid plan he had come up with yet. He stared out from the bars and huffed.

  
The air in room 101 could hardly be called tense. It was to the point of being so rigid he was certain even a saw couldn't cut it. Neither of them really even seemed to be _breathing._ Snake was still cuffed, and Jack was still fully dressed, standing nowhere near the table where Snake was sat.

They did not look at each other.

At least, Jack was doing his damnedest not to look towards Snake, although he could feel his eyes, searing his back. He could not look at Snake. This man, who was his enemy, who was practically a rival in unwillingness to budge. This famous man who had so carelessly fallen into his hands.

Whose name was on the tip of his tongue in his most private moments (something he was, understandably sour about).

 

_"Advice? What about?" Jack tapped his fingers against his desk, wondering what he should even say. Should he tell his grandfather he was having, fantasies, about a prisoner? Should he tell him he couldn't sleep because he was overwhelmed with the possibility of having a thing for torture? No that wasn't right at all. He sighed, impatient with himself, and twirled a lock of platinum hair around his finger._

_"About um… Someone I'm…" Jack grit his teeth. "Interested in."_

_"It's been so long since my little Jack has come to me with something like this…!" Jack could hear the laughter in his grandfather's voice. His lip twitched and he had to stop himself from hanging up immediately. After a giggle or two, his grandfather cleared his throat and there was a little bit of shuffling on the other line. "Well,_ molynia _, what are you feeling? Tell me about him." Jack's cheeks burned._

_"Is it that other Major you talk about so much?"_

_"No, it is certainly not Sam who I'm…" Jack paused, his mouth feeling incredibly dry. He switched the phone to his other ear and chewed on his lip. "It's, complicated,_ dedushka _, and I don't even want to call it, interest. And I don't know if you'll approve. Though I think… You might, recognise him." A frown so wide it was practically audible through Ivan's humming._

_"Come on now, Jack, I'm a busy man."_

_"Well you see… His name is… Solid Snake."_

  
Major Raikov grit his teeth, and slowly turned on his heel to face the table. Without breaking his attention, he still managed to not look Snake in the face. Observant as always, Snake sat up a little straighter, and Jack could feel those clear eyes on his face. Ears burning in shame, he stalked over to the table and unbuttoned his coat, shrugging out of it.

"Finally gonna get the show on the road?" Snake asked, and there was a certain, edge to his voice. He was obviously trying to sound calm, but the man sounded damn near _excited._ With an unsteady look in his eyes, he came around Snake and hesitated with the key to the cuffs in his hands. He shakily slipped the key in the lock, and the handcuffs cranked as he removed them from Snake's wrists. He hurriedly stepped back and tossed them to the side, pulling his gloves off and pocketing them. Snake stood up and rolled his neck, his shoulders, his wrists. He popped all of his knuckles and each crack made Jack flinch. He stretched every joint he had.

Finally, he turned to face Jack, who paled the moment he saw the expressionless look on Solid Snake's face.

He was in front of Jack faster than he could blink, and his arms came up to block what he expected to be punches. Snake grabbed his arms and twisted them behind his back with speed he would have never pinned Snake to have. He gasped at the sudden movement; a thousand possibilities, what to do, where this could go, sped through Jack's head. Snake bent him over the table, holding his arms together so tightly his shoulders threatened to pop.

He thrust one foot into Snake's shin, and the other into his knee, trying to scoot himself forward on the table. The impact made his grip loosen just enough for Jack to break free, and he scrambled across the table, surprised it could hold him up. He slid off the other side, swallowing thickly, staring his opponent down. Snake looked at him with an alarmingly satisfied expression on his face. Jack sucked a breath through his teeth.

"This isn't going to be easy," Snake muttered, and Jack narrowed his eyes. He was obviously planning on doing _that_ and he became briefly preoccupied on how to talk him out of it. Snake made the first move again, throwing the table to the side and closing the gap between them. Jack jumped at the clattering of metal against concrete and barely dodged a sucker punch to the gut. He grabbed Snake's hand and with all his weight, Jack spun on his heel and threw Snake over his shoulder. Snake's back connected with the floor with an all too satisfying thud.

He moved to put his boot on Snake's chest; he grabbed Jack's boot and twisted, sending Jack toppling down. Jack caught himself on his palms, shock shooting up his arms, and Snake was over him in a flash. He ducked and rolled away from the ghost of Snake's hand at his neck. He bounced to his feet, holding his arms up protectively. They only sound in the room was their breathing, not heavy, not shallow. Calm, measured breaths left both of them. Snake got to his feet, dusting himself off.

Progress was, slow.

Jack moved this time, closing in within Snake's reach; Snake grabbed at him and he feinted, stepping around him and wrapping his arm around Snake's neck. He pulled one of Snake's arms behind his back, twisting until Snake fell to his knees, grunting in pain. A slight smirk came to Jack's face just before Snake's elbow collided with the side of his head. He staggered back, the ground spinning, and he sought safety in clinging to the wall. When had it gotten so close, anyway?

"You're quite good at this," Jack said in Russian, eyes glinting. Snake smirked and got back to his feet.

"Been doin' it since before you were born." Jack's eye twitched.

"How young do you think I am?" Snake didn't answer, but closed in on him, and Jack ducked and dashed away from the wall, making Snake's back the one facing it. The dread Jack had felt existed somewhere else, and right now, he was simply focused on—What? Winning? He had a feeling there wasn't really anything to win. What was the point of this?

They were both careful, but it was too clear that Snake was far more seasoned than he was. He tried running countless ideas through his head, but in all honesty, his mind was quite barren in terms of strategy. They moved towards each other again.

They traded punches, limbs moving erratically as they moved and evaded each other. Jack ducked under Snake's hook and tried to uppercut to throw him off his balance, but he moved back just barely to save himself. Taking advantage of the split second Jack was still lowered, Snake laced his fingers together and brought his hands down on Jack's head. Watching Jack slam into the ground face-first made him feel like he was really starting to get somewhere. Snake used his disorientation to climb on his back, pulling his arms behind him again. He pinned him down, and they exchanged only laboured breaths. Jack grunted and shifted.

"You're not too bad," Snake admitted teasingly. Jack practically growled as he thrashed about underneath him. A thousand responses flew through his head. He set his gaze on the ground in front of his face, sniffled as blood trickled from his nose.

"I'm probably the worst human shield," Jack muttered. Snake blinked in surprise. Was he _that_ see-through? Was that not a good enough plan? He thought it had been quite clever. He bit his lip and tightened his grip on Jack's wrists.

"That's the only way I'm getting out of here," he said with a sigh.

"They'll shoot you." Snake's eyes widened. "We are taught that comrades die, and sometimes you will have to be the one to do it." Jack was lying through his Goddamned teeth. He was Lieutenant-General Ivan Raikov's fucking grandson, there was no way they would put him in any danger. Silence stretched on, and Jack felt like his arms were going to snap. He focused on breathing through his teeth, since his nose was so clogged with blood he was afraid to breathe in.

Snake was in near panic. His only real plan, not "I escaped somehow let's see where this goes", right down the drain. He swore, pressing Jack's arms into his back. Jack groaned and struggled briefly.

"What did they inject me with, when I first arrived?" Snake growled, and Jack blinked.

"What?"

"Your men gave me something, and my nanos don't work." Jack turned his head, cheek resting against the cold cement floor.

"Nanomachine suppressant, obviously," Jack huffed, and it was not exactly a _lie_. Just not the truth. "It wears off, within two weeks. Shouldn't take much longer." Snake eyed him and slowly, he eased up, got to his feet, and stepped back. Jack sat up on his knees, rubbing his arm across his face, smearing blood along the entire length. Did he break his fucking nose? Jack rolled his shoulders in their sockets and struggled to his feet. He turned to face Snake, and he couldn't help but think he looked tired.

"You're not going to cuff me now that you've figured me out, are you?" A kind of savage grin crossed Jack's features, and he held up his hands again.

"Hell no," Jack said cockily. Snake laughed and ran a hand through his hair. He was thinking maybe the major was not that bad after all. He dropped his hands, putting them on his hips. Jack relaxed his stance and cocked his head to the side. "You're not tired are you, old man?" Snake's lip twitched, and he rubbed his neck and shrugged.

"Just getting started, kid."

They came at each other harder than before, throwing in kicks along with their punches. Jack landed a hit to Snake's nose with the sacrifice of Snake's hand twisted in his stomach, and they both pulled away, huffing. Neither of them would budge an inch. They danced around the room, avoiding the chairs and the toppled table, circling each other as the room spun, and the wall was getting very close. Snake was no doubt trying to pin him to the wall, so Jack figured he could get the switch on him.

Snake's back hit the wall with the force of one of Jack's punches to his chest. He ducked out of the way of a punch to the face, letting Jack's fist collide with cement. Jack swore, and Snake spun them around and pinned him to the wall; Jack headbutted him in the chin, spinning them again. Snake swore, reaching to hold his throbbing chin. Jack grabbed his wrist in one hand and punched him in the cheek with the other. Snake caught him before he could do it again, and they struggled in each other's grasps.

They glared into each other's eyes, and for a split second, Jack's mind went blank. Snake tried to dodge the incoming headbutt, but was caught entirely off guard when the major yanked him forward and kissed him square on the lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations//  
> mudak is a swear?? im pretty sure its close to 'shit'  
> dedushka is grandfather  
> molynia means lightning, which of course is raikov playing off of jack's nickname (raiden)


	5. Dear Fellow Traveler

The moment the major's face was too close for anything else to be happening, an alarm surged through David's brain, but there was no output. He stood, frozen, lips caught in the stiffest kiss of his life. It dawned on Major Raikov impossibly slow what he was doing, and after a couple of agonizingly long seconds, his eyes shot open and his face flushed bright enough to match the beret he word with his uniform. He jerked away, letting go of David's fist, but David only clutched his tighter. He watched, with some kind of morbid curiosity, as all the blood in the major's body rushed to his face.

Jack tugged, trying to free himself, to grab his coat and run, but Snake would not let him. A thousand thoughts accompanied the pounding of his heart, and he closed his eyes tight. The disbelief washed over him in horrible waves; how could he have done that? In the heat of the moment, when he had Snake in the perfect position (alright, maybe not _perfect,_ but) to beat him to a pulp, and his first instinct was… Kiss him? The shame rolling off of him was practically tangible. His hair stood on end, goosebumps pricking his bare arms.

Snake was going to _kill him_. Maybe. Which, honestly, would be fine with him, because he would rather die by Snake's hand than the shame filling him to the brim.

They stood in silence together, and as each second ticked away, the thundering of Jack's heart was becoming all that he could hear, becoming the only thing that existed. Sweat dribbled down his face. Snake's grip on his wrist was painfully tight, it was useless to try and escape. He could feel his fingers throbbing. After the longest minute in quite possibly all of eternity, Major Raikov tugged again, hoping for some kind of reaction. Nothing. He swallowed thickly, and tried a line.

"Let me go." Softly, in Russian. It took Snake a while to respond. The silence was driving Jack absolutely mad, and he felt like he was going to snap, or cry, or scream, or—He gulped down a single, panicked breath. He had never felt this way in all his life. How could he have acted on such unprofessional, such disgusting feelings? He wanted to leave, to shut himself away, and just have his subordinates shoot Snake so he didn't have to live with this treason. He didn't want to be around this man any longer.

"Why?" David asked in English, his voice slightly more gruff than usual.

It felt like such a bold question in a moment like this that Jack felt like he was choking on his spit, drowning on nothing but air. Such a simple, single question was capable of making him feel like he was being interrogated at the cost of his own life; yet he was spared the beating he was expecting from this man. Was this not the perfect opportunity for Snake to take him down? He could easily best the rest of his soldiers once Jack himself was taken care of. Why was he hesitating like this? Why did it matter to him what Jack did? He tugged, feebly, his face so uncomfortably hot it was stinging his eyes. Snake's clear gaze bore into him and it just made him squirm.

"I don't know what's going on with you, kid, but you need to get over it." Jack snapped to face him so fast he was able to break away, and grit his teeth, hard. No words came to him, and his fire died as fast as it was created. He turned his back to David and scrambled to the chair his coat was hung over, shoving his arms through it. Snake stalked after him and grabbed his wrist.

"We're not done here," David said in a measured voice, but mentally, Jack was no longer here. He stared with wide eyes, and he looked towards David's hand on his wrist. With quick, mechanical movements, Jack took his pistol from its holster and cracked it across Snake's cheek, freeing himself.

As the door swung shut it was thrown open again, and David could only stand there in disbelief as soldiers flanked him. Handcuffs clinked and he fought briefly, throwing one soldier against the other before a third jabbed the butt of his AK into the back of his head. He was thrown back in his cell, head reeling, chest burning.

What was that kid thinking? Curiosity ran through him like fire in his blood and all he could think about was getting answers; and not the kind he was paid to get. He wanted no more of this foolishness, and yet he wanted to stick around for the ride.

  
Leaving Snake for his soldiers to take care of was not exactly the brightest idea, but Jack wanted to, needed to leave that room. He never wanted to show his face to Snake again. He was being so fucking _childish._ Here he was, almost 30, and yet he was acting like, like—like some kid with a damn crush. He was a soldier for fuck's sake. Kissing a prisoner, a prisoner of _war_ was not something he could just get away with, no matter how many times beating him senseless left him too horny to think; no matter how many times he touched himself thinking of Snake's hands instead—

Jack slumped against his desk for the nth time since Snake had arrived, clutching his hair tightly in his fists. He wanted to pull it out. He wanted to hurt Snake more, since that was his only real form of venting his frustrations, but he couldn't, just, see him. What on Earth was he _doing_? Snake's word rang in his ears and he covered his head, trying to block them out. Trying to block everything out. He was so painfully right. This was not the time. It was never the time for something like this. He couldn't just be doing shit like this. He needed to take Snake seriously. He needed to take himself seriously.

He needed to take his job seriously.

Jack sobbed dryly, once, shoved his panic attack down his throat, and shakily sat back in his chair. He stared at the ceiling, counting to 10 forward and backward on his fingers. He seemed to stare up here a lot. What kind of answers was he looking for in the ceiling? What kind of questions was he even trying to ask? Jack ran a hand down his face, mussed with his hair, and got up. He was a little sore from the, fight, if you could call it that, but he needed to do _something_ to take his mind off this.

He dressed himself a little better, made sure his gun was loaded, and left his office with the intent of going on a run until he couldn't breath.

  
David couldn't help but feel a little defeated. His plan of using the major as a shield turned out to be a fluke, a horrible idea, and he was running himself in circles. Was he just not as clever as he used to be? Was he even that clever in the first place? He wasn't even that old, yet. Was the situation more intense than he could see from his position? It had been his lack of energy, and possibly his curiosity, that caused him to be recaptured. He deserved the chance to get some information out of the major in return for his terrible hospitality, anyways.

David snorted.

After a week (a week?) of getting the snot kicked out of him, it felt nice to have a chance to defend himself. Close quarters combat had always been a reluctant specialty of his, and he was almost glad the major could keep up with him. He had not been able to go all out and be matched since… David shook his head and sighed. That was not something he needed to be thinking about. There were a lot of things he really shouldn't have been thinking about, though.

Like the major's kiss.

It was so… Stiff. Did the major know how to kiss someone? His first, maybe? His lips were so soft, too, and it all came down to how he really could not complain that the major kissed him at all. He was crazy for even thinking about it; Jack Raikov was his enemy, his captor, and he couldn't, shouldn't just go around thinking that kissing him wasn't so bad. He shouldn't be thinking about kissing him at all. He was a little disgusted at himself. Was he forming some sort of… Attachment? He doubted it, harshly.

They had not had a single interaction where both of them were not at each other's throat. What base was there for attachment? Attraction was another barrel he wasn't willing to crack open, but attachment? He was more familiar with Jack Raikov's fists than his personality at this point. David swore to himself.

That couldn't be it at all.

  
Jack snuck out the same side door he had caught Snake trying to escape out of only a week ago. He might get in trouble for disappearing so suddenly, but hell if he cared. He ran this place, the best he would get is some overly concerned captains chewing him out. He just hoped nothing eventful happened. In times like this, he could come back to his outpost destroyed. To be the lone survivor of such a tragic event would put far too much attention on him (not like he wasn't already swamped with it). He had been gone long enough for something like that to happen, though he tried to stick as close to the station as he could. He was highly capable of taking care of himself, after all.

It was strange, though, and he wondered if it had just been so long since he had been outside for more than a couple minutes. He felt like something was off. It was far too quiet. Sure, he was surrounded by forest and factories and smoke so thick the sky was hard to see, but he should have been able to hear… Something. It was unnerving. Jack had seen the war. He knew it was there. He experienced it, first hand.

... Hadn't he?

Jack slipped back in through the same door he left, and tried to avoid everything and anyone at all costs. Had they noticed he had even left in the first place? It was pretty late at this point, and he thought it was about time for a guard change anyway. No one would be paying attention to him. He opened the door to the stairwell, and stopped himself. He should go back to his office, and go to sleep. Or, die, maybe. Major Raikov sighed and opened the door, moving down the stairs in no rush at all.

Four guards stood around, making idle chatter as they switched posts. When they spotted Jack, they snapped into a salute. He stared at them for a moment before nodding, throwing them a hasty salute of his own. He cleared his throat and ordered them, quietly, to leave. They exchanged glances, but left all the same. Had the odd events of earlier that afternoon been spread around to make his soldiers concerned? He couldn't care less.

Major Raikov stood in front of Snake's cell with a hazy feeling settling over him. Snake had stirred on his bed at the sound of his voice, and was now fully attentive. Those clear eyes were staring right at him, so intensely. As much as he wanted to tear away his own gaze, he physically could not bring himself to. His lips parted, and he rubbed his arm.

_"You need to get over it."_

"I… Think we should talk."

  
"On edge" was a little bit of an understatement for David's current emotional state. He hated that vaguely threatening phrase. It wasn't like he was in any position to say no, anyway. Being led down the hallway, past room 101, was not something he was expecting, though. The only time he had seen the "nicer" side of the post was that time he had snuck out, and it had been far too dark for him to really take anything in. However, now, as he was being slowly coerced through the halls with a gun to his back, he had a little bit more time to look around. Though the scenery was not familiar, he could connect the dots to figure out where they were going.

Major Raikov reached around him to open the door to his office and nudged him forward into the room. He quickly closed the door behind them and turned the lock. The click made his skin crawl for some reason. David hovered by the door as the major rounded his desk and sat down. They had not spoke since Jack had opened his cell and jerked his head towards the door and said, "Walk." He had an unsettling feeling gnawing at him, but he honestly couldn't tell what was going to happen next.

Jack set his hat down, peeled off his gloves, and sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh. David waited, patient and impatient at the same time.

"I'll skip the bullshit," Jack drawled, chin in his hand as his elbow rested against the arm of the chair. He looked like a bored child. David locked eyes with him and refused to look away. Jack, surprisingly, held his gaze. He didn't speak for another few seconds, and then he sighed loudly. "You…" his voice trailed off and he growled, raking a hand through his hair.

"I'm having trouble. You are causing the trouble. I figured, eh, why not just kill you? But I do have a job to do…" David blanched, found himself against the door. "And I am thinking, you are making my job so difficult by being so stubborn! But I kind of like it, the stubbornness, because you are giving me something to do everyday!" Jack's shoulders shifted around as he folded one of his legs over the other. He laced his fingers together and set his chin over them, scooting forward so the buttons of his coat just barely touched the edge of the desk. Unsure of where this was going, David simply held his tongue and stared.

(He had let people talk a lot longer before trying to get them to get to the point. Far longer.)

"What I'm meaning to say is you are distracting me, which is why you are here." Blue-green eyes finally lowered, flickered for a moment. He tucked his hair behind his ear, only on one side, and searched the wood of his desk like it had the answers Snake was supposedly going to give him. He stood up a little suddenly, and David tensed, trying to prepare himself for whatever the major could throw at him. Jack rounded the desk and closed the space between them, not looking up at David until he spoke.

"What I want is, not really a talk, you see…" He stepped closer, and David's stomach dropped.

"I need to you, to fuck me."

He had definitely _not_ been ready for that.

"What?" David hissed after a couple of moments of the major just staring at him with deadly serious eyes. He went to move back, but he was already pressed against the door. He swallowed thickly, and tried to find a hint of a joke on Jack's pale face. Something.

Anything.

He couldn't.

David was having an extraordinarily difficult time wrapping his head around this situation. The reason the major had been acting so fucking weird was… Because he was, sexually attracted to him? There was no way that was right. It was, a good explanation, but it was too damn _simple._ It couldn't be that. He was waiting, for Jack to just burst out laughing and send him back to his cell. He squeezed his eyes shut with a sigh and brought his hands (both, since he was still cuffed) up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I think you're forgetting what kind of relationship we have here," David said dryly, finally opening his eyes to look at the major. He was still looking at him with those serious eyes, and it made him shudder. How could the major say something so incredibly ridiculous to him? Surely this was a joke. It _had_ to be a joke. There was no way he was going to have sex with the man keeping him captive, who beat the hell out of him every single day.

Jack lowered his eyes, realising that he was not getting through.

"I was thinking that maybe, if we do this, I can, become, not distracted," the major struggled for words, his face contorting slightly. "And our relationship can return to being," he cleared his throat, "Strictly professional." He was speaking in a voice that was all too lighthearted. He resigned himself back to his desk with a childish kind of huff.

"If you are unwilling, then I suppose it cannot be helped. Though, I do have some drinks in case you only need slight convincing." David's bewilderment was past anything he had ever felt before. This guy was serious. Major Jack Raikov wanted to have sex with him, 100 percent seriously. He could not believe this.

He actually could not believe this.

"Sleeping with me is, going to fix… What, exactly?" David asked through his teeth, eyeing the major. There was no way he was entertaining this idea, right? Right?

Jack shrugged.

"If we get it over with, my lust will be, satiated." A frown tugged at the edge of Jack's lips, and he almost started to pout. David had to literally force himself to not roll his eyes. He was dealing with a child, an actual child. He must have been crazy. This was a joke, it had to be. David was going to eventually cave, and Jack would laugh and send him back. Soldiers were going to pop out of hiding spots (where, the major's office was barren) and laugh at him.

He stared Jack down, and Jack held his gaze.

"This…" David started, regretting everything in his life up to this point. To this specific moment in time. "Is a one time thing." He had meant it in the form of a question, but he found the infliction was not quite there. Fortunately enough, Jack had understood, crystal clear.

" _Absolutely._ "

  
Having sex with Major Raikov was not on his to-do list, but as the night went on, he couldn't say he was exactly _against_ this anymore. Jack was decently experienced, from the way he was behaving, and was skilled with his hands and mouth. He was also prepared for this in an almost disturbing way. He knew what he wanted, David supposed.

Jack seemed a lot smaller underneath him. His hair looked a lot longer when it was splayed across his pillow. He seemed a lot more frail when he wasn't beating the ever living hell out of him, instead shivering and jerking and keening at his every touch. Jack's skin was very pale, his voice was very soft, and David loathed the fact that he was enjoying himself. Loathed the thought that he enjoyed the major under him with cloudy eyes, an open mouth, and red cheeks. Loathed that this was the best damn lay he'd had in years.

Jack's hand grasped his, and he could not hate himself anymore than in that moment. A week ago he would have never seen himself here, but it was happening.

It was happening and he didn't think it was that strange any longer.


	6. Do I Wanna Know

Jack Raikov was not a man accustomed to being wrong; in fact, he was incredibly distressed at how _dead wrong_ he had been. Sincerely, he figured his entire obsession with Snake was physical, that getting it out would fix everything and he could go back to, like, doing his job. Yet, he was feeling as though the man truly deserved to be called a snake; he felt absolutely, undoubtedly trapped, suffocated, and injected with some kind of deadly venom. Something in the back of his mind had been telling him things wouldn't work out the way they did in his head, that these types of situations only got worse through action. Sure, that's how it worked in films, but life wasn't supposed to be anything like films.

Being preoccupied by thoughts like this, thoughts of last night, was hardly appropriate during a meeting, and he was practically begging to get in trouble. He always tended to space out when he was required to pay attention, distracting by an ever deepening train of thought. He had yet to chase this old habit from his childhood, and it was bound to get him yelled at some day. If someone tried to talk to him, or ask him his opinion on anything, he would be _doomed,_ Lieutenant General's grandson or not. His mind was clouded and filled completely with the throbbing bruises on his hips, with the memory of Snake's breath like wildfire, spreading across his skin; with a dull sort of pain that would not leave.

Ultimately, last night had been a _terrible_ idea.

Fortunately enough for Jack, the meeting was, brief, probably unimportant, and he was wondering why he had to drive all the way to fucking Yekaterinburg. He escaped without anything awkward coming into light. He practically tore out of the crowded, muggy meeting room like a bat out of hell. _Unfortunately_ enough for Jack, his absolute _favourite_ person was in attendance, as one should be if summoned, and was now hot on his tail as he feebly tried to leave the building. A hand wrapped around his wrist, and he felt the contents of his breakfast in his throat.

"Sam," Jack hissed before Samuel Rodrigues could even say anything. He turned to face Samuel, pulling his wrist from his grasp with the motion. "I don't have time to catch up right now." Partly true, but mostly he just didn't want to deal with him. His lip curled. He had the stupid, aloof smile plastered on his unshaved face. Had he heard of razors? His eyes crinkled a little at the sides as he narrowed them. The scar running from his brow to his lip wrinkled this way and that around his expression.

"I know, Jack, I know," Samuel said lightly, wrapping his arm around Jack's shoulder and leading him the exact opposite way of the door. Jack begrudgingly let it happen, thinking that perhaps maybe if he went along with Sam he could escape faster. After all, if he sat and argued he would be wasting more time. He glanced at a clock as they walked through the halls. "I just wanted to talk to you, just for a few minutes. Surely you have just that to spare?" Jack rolled his eyes and sighed a little, shrugging and nodding a little.

"I suppose I do," Jack grumbled, blue-green eyes slowly moving around as they started to walk in a dangerously empty part of the building. If it was something Sam did not want anyone to overhear, this could have gone one of two ways, Jack figured; either Sam was trying to flirt with him some more, trying to bribe him into going out; or he legitimately had something to talk about. Once the number of people passing them had drizzled down to _none,_ Samuel stopped abruptly in the hall, and pulled him through a doorway into an empty room, closing the door. Jack got ready to chew him out for the nth time, but realised the other major had a startling serious expression on his face.

"Have you noticed something strange?" Samuel whispered in English, his tone equally serious and unnerving. Jack blinked. That was a… Pretty vague question; he thought on it, swallowing slowly. Anything strange? There were a million things Sam could have been asking about. Jack deemed pinpointing it impossible and sighed.

"What do you mean… By strange?" Jack asked finally, locking eyes with Sam for a moment. Samuel inspected him and put his hands on the wall, trapping Jack between them. His stern expression did not fade.

"Something's going on." Jack's lip twitched. How long was he going to keep on being vague? A frown crossed his face and he pushed Samuel away, folding his arms across his chest.

"What do you mean?" Samuel kept staring at him, but that look melted away and his normal, cheery, annoying expression replaced it. He clapped Jack on the shoulder and let out a bark of laughter.

"It's nothing, _tovarishch_!" Jack watched him cautiously, and then sighed. "I should be letting you go now, yes? Go on, then." Sam pushed him out of the room by the shoulders and waved shortly at him before straightening his cap and ducking out after him, walking off quickly towards the empty end of the hallway. Jack stood there for a moment, confusion rolling over him in waves. He would _never_ understand that guy.

  
David was, strangely, no longer used to being left alone all day. He would have thought that a day to himself would be refreshing, to relax and not have to worry about the major popping something weird on him, or falling back into being "interrogated" relentlessly. The major was out at a meeting today, and thus had no time to play (as the guard he spoke to had put it). Upon eavesdropping on some soldiers chitchatting, he had found out that Major Raikov had forbade anyone else to touch him—though that seemed to be a rule put into place rather early on. Being left alone meant that he very little concept of time, only really being alerted when he was fed.

He was quite honestly trying his hardest not to think about what happened last night, but with no disturbances, no other distractions, he always found his mind wandering. He was thinking about the major's slim body under his fingertips, when he should have been thinking of a way to leave. The last thing he had expected was for the major to be attracted to him, and the last thing he had expected from himself was to be thinking about how he just might feel the same. He did not want to admit it at first, but the more he dwelled on it, the more he found it harder to deny.

There was definitely some kind of attraction he felt towards the major, though he was most certain it was purely physical. There was not a lot of wiggle room to be attracted to some kid who tied him up and beat him senseless for a week and a half, and then asked to get fucked. This was where he wanted to keep this mess of a situation, at arms' length, where he could keep track of it. The dangerous game he and the major were playing could end in several ways, and almost none of them were good.

As long as he separated attachment and attraction, he should be fine… Right?

… Right?

Dragging a hand down his face, David laid back on the bed in his cell to do his daily inspection of the ceiling. It was mostly a calming routine to help him think and clear his mind but at the moment, he had nothing better to do. He almost longed for the major to show up and take him somewhere— _anywhere._ Preferably, the interrogation room. He hoped what Jack said was true, and that last night was the solution… David found himself thinking about going back to that office, into that cramped side room… It wouldn't have been too bad.

Which, in itself, was bad.

  
The walls of his office looked incredibly bleak compared to Yekaterinburg. Though, being in his comfy office chair was much more desirable than the stiff chair in the meeting room, or the backseat of the bumpy ride back. He just could not help feeling bored; being cooped up in this place had made him forget that he rather enjoyed being outside, even if he was not doing anything at all. Jack took one last sweeping glance around his office before he forced himself up and to the door. His hand hovered over the handle. Was… This a good idea?

"None of your ideas are good," Jack said aloud, belittling himself. He paced around the room several times, really debating, before removing his beret and combing a hand through his hair. It was either play the dangerous game, or mope in his office for the rest of the day. He weighed his options, put his beret back on, and practically stomped out the door.

He could walk to the holding cells blindfolded by now.

" _Dobryy vecher, mayor_ ," came the immediate greeting from the soldier standing guard, salute and all. Jack had to force himself not to ignore him, shooting him a salute back as he ordered him to leave. He complied obediently.

David slowly rose from his bed once the footsteps had faded. Jack awkwardly stood there, trying to articulate his thoughts into words. Nothing came out for a few moments, and they just settled for staring at each other. Though, Jack supposed they did that enough without him struggling to find words to say. Did he even have anything to say, or did he merely just wish to force himself into Snake's presence so he could wait for _something_ to happen?

Fortunately for him, David found words first.

"I think we need to talk."

  
The first thing Jack did upon letting him into his office for a second time, was uncuff him, and lead him straight to the bathroom.

"Please, clean up," Jack insisted, nose wrinkled. He had never noticed it before, but Snake had been here for almost two weeks and had not showered, and that, frankly, was pretty gross. There was nothing he could do about his clothes, however. He offered at least a clean telny, although it might have been a little tight. The water turned on, and Jack could only think about how he had sex with a man who hadn't showered in a week. Snake was quick at showering, and the water shut off before Major Raikov could straighten out his thoughts properly. Oh, he hadn't even provided a separate towel.

Jack shrugged.

He needed to do laundry, anyway.

David opened the door, steam curling into the already warm room, and Jack tried to set a serious look on his face, when really he was just ogling. Was he 15? He ended up glaring harshly.

Though David could distinctly hear the hum of the heater running, there was no doubt that he was slowly becoming covered in goosebumps. The temperature from the muggy bathroom to the stuffy office wasn't enough to make his hair stand on end; it was those eyes. Eyes that, in their previous encounter, had been blurry and warm, but were now staring him down holding all the cold of the upcoming Russian winter. He had only seen Jack's eyes so cold when they had first met.

When he suggested for them to have a little heart-to-heart, he had not really expected the major to take him so nonchalantly back to his office. With some stroke of luck, they had managed to avoid everyone and anyone they could have possibly run into. At times, this placed seemed really empty, although he was certain he had heard at least 20 different soldier's voices.

Not a word had been exchanged between them, and from the ticking of the clock, David had to have been there for a least five minutes already. He sucked in a breath, finally ready to jump start the conversation.

"Would you like some wine?" Jack asked, and all the air left David's lungs. He blinked slowly and looked the major dead in the eyes. There was no apparent joke in his gaze. David figured, at this point, that this man had never joked in his life. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and made a noise that meant neither yes or no. Jack nodded slowly and stood from his desk, moving over to the bookcase. He pulled it around to reveal another series of shelves completely lined with alcohol. David raised his eyebrows.

"Pretty cool, huh?" The slightest hint of a grin came to the major's face as he pulled a bottle from the shelf and pushed the case back around. "It's a shame I have nowhere to hide away glasses," Jack said as he popped the cork out of the bottle and took a swig of the wine. The casualty of the gesture took David off guard, and he remained frozen in his spot. Jack eyed him, and his eyes seemed to have lost some of their edge.

"I interrupted you, right? You were about to say something? Please, say it." He had completely forgotten what had been on the tip of his tongue only a moment ago. He had completely forgotten he was even here for a reason. The look on his face must have said it all. Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He took another drink and set the bottle down, sitting beside it on top of the desk. "Swallow your tongue?" Jack asked slyly in Russian.

"A little, yeah," David admitted slowly, clear eyes sweeping the room before falling back on Jack. There was nowhere else to look.

"Loosen up, Snake," Jack said softly. "I don't want to get blood in my office. I won't hurt you here," he paused, and a grin came to his features, and he added, "purposefully." With a wink. David blinked. He almost found it hard to believe, considering the arm twisting he had received just the other day. He felt his shoulders relax, despite his doubt, and he backed himself to the wall to lean against it. David, all of a sudden remembering he had entirely free reign over his arms, folded them over his chest.

"You had something to say to me, too, didn't you?" David asked quietly. The major tensed, then filled his hesitance with a drink. He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, just on one side, and cleared his throat.

"I was…" Jack murmured, voice trailing off into silence. It stretched, Jack growing more and more uncomfortable. David sighed and raked a hand through his hair. This kid sure was difficult to talk to; he almost liked his fists better than that meek, awkward stare. He grumbled a little and cautiously made his way toward Jack; David sat on the desk next to him and took the bottle straight out of his hands, taking a drink. Jack stared at him the entire time.

He made a face—wine was not his style.

"You were saying?" He was hoping that he could get the major to relax by expressing that he was relaxed himself. It only seemed to make Jack more tense, though, as he fumbled with his hands and kept his head turned away, his eyes pinned to the ground. David considered himself a pretty patient man.

"I was, wrong." Jack started meekly, finally settling his hands in his lap. He stroked his thumb across the top of his hand. David took another swig of the wine, thinking maybe if he kept drinking it, he could forget about how bad it tasted. "I'm having… Trouble, forgetting…" He swore he could feel the heat radiating off the major's cheeks. David took a breath, let it out, and then offered the wine to Jack. He took a firm hold of it and took a drink he thought would never end.

Jack set the empty bottle down between them and hiccuped quietly.

"Last night."

"You know," David said, hesitating before patting Jack's shoulder gently. "I've been having the same problem." They exchanged glances; Jack lowered his eyes first, and slowly, cautiously, leaned his head on David's shoulder. He tensed, but not enough to alert the major. The gesture had wrenched him from this weird dreamlike state he was in. What was he doing? This man was an _enemy._ He was uncuffed, free to do as he pleased, and this lightweight was halfway to wasted that he could have done anything. Why was he just… Sitting here?

David did not, move, not even when Jack lifted his head and cupped his face in his hands. Not when Jack pulled him closer, and kissed him, eyes fluttering shut. For a moment, neither of them were breathing. It took David a second, but he slowly brought his arms up, and put his hands on Jack's shoulder, pushing him gently. The kiss broke, and Jack's blue-green eyes searched his face.

They were not cold, or warm, they only held a sense of longing.

Jack moved away and averted his gaze again, nodding. Last night had been a one time thing, and the fact that both of them were still thinking about it did not change that. Jack exhaled, softly, and tucked his hair behind his ear. He stood up and grabbed the bottle to throw it away.

"Would you like some more? I might as well keep you to myself for the night." David knew he would probably regret this, but he stood and put his hand on the major's shoulder. He flashed Jack a slight smirk and nodded. Jack looked uneasy, but he turned the book case again and swiped his arm out.

"Take your pick, Snake."

  
If he had been told he would be getting drunk with the enemy in the small hours of the night on the floor of his office, he would have laughed.

(Probably?)

Him? Jack Raikov? Fraternizing with the enemy? Yet…

Here we was, back pressed against his desk sitting on the floor with Solid Snake, a half empty bottle of vodka in his hand.

"I don't know what they're thinking, back home," Snake murmured, holding his hand in front of his face for a moment before turning to look at Jack. A kind of, bitter, look crossed his face, but he was smiling. "Otacon must be going crazy."

They had been trading stories, not even necessarily about being soldiers, either. Sure, Snake retold some stories, his own account of events he was famous for, and he talked a lot about this Otacon guy. They were partners, and had been like, fighting bad guys and stuff since 2005. They talked of first loves, schooling in America and Russia, and acted surprised over the differences. Friends, people back home, family. Jack could hardly tell he was drunk with how coherent he was being. He and Snake were sat very close, leaning against one another, talking in quiet voice as to not alert anyone passing by that their conversation was so, unprofessional. He had the door locked, anyway.

A yawn escaped Snake. His speech began to slur. Jack realised how tired he was, too. His eyes swept the room and he pulled himself up with the help of his desk. Snake caught himself before he fell. Jack hiccuped quietly, running a hand through his hair. This, probably, maybe, had not been a good idea after all. He hummed softly as he swayed in place.

Snake leaned back against the desk, to steady himself on his feet. He glared into the distance for a moment before turning bleary, clear eyes towards Jack. Jack held his gaze, for a moment, before his own eyes wandered toward the side room.

A one time thing, right?

He took Snake's hand and pulled him into the room, a thousand thoughts running through his head, shooting clearly out of sight the moment they popped up. They were tired, they would just sleep. Jack would set an alarm for a couple hours later and bring Snake back to his cell. Rough him up a little, maybe, so it looked like he was being productive.

When Snake pinned him to the bed, he wasn't thinking anything anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations//  
> tovarishch: comrade  
> dobryy vecher, mayor: good evening, major


	7. Sugar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.............It's the sex chapter..........I'm sorry. u_u

It was different, than the previous night; though, of course it was. Last night had been tense, it had been brief, forced. Jack was not even sure last night could have been considered pleasurable, despite how hung up on it he was. It had been so, straightforward, lacking… Passion. He wanted to laugh at himself. Of course it lacked _passion,_ it wasn't like they were in _love._ This, though… Snake's movements were drowsy, their lips met in slanted, sloppy ways; their hands fumbled with every slow, dreamy touch. Through the haze, he was definitely enjoying this more. He was enjoying it, period.

In the back of his mind, alarms were wailing. He shouldn't be enjoying this _at all_. It shouldn't have been happening, period.

He paid it no mind.

Snake's forehead brushed against Jack's, and he rested so their temples were pressed together, leaning over him and sighing. His lips were so close to his ear, and with every one of Snake's shuddering breaths, a shiver slid down his spine, driving him mad. Snake was silent, simply letting his soft, slow breathing ring in his head and further his madness. Jack tightened the grip he had on Snake's hips and rolled his own up.

The gestures earned him a groan right in his ear. He did it again, and Snake's slipped down until he smushed his face into the pillow under Jack's head. Snake slowly ground his hips down against Jack's, the heat of his breath into the pillow tickling Jack's neck.

Jack felt incredibly, overwhelmed, how attractive one man's voice could sound. He was a mess and they were still fully dressed. He wormed his arm under Snake and pushed him up, admiring the clouded look in his eyes. He worked on kissing him over and over, until they were both struggling to breathe and pulled away; he searched Snake's flushed face. He looked surprisingly good with such a deep blush on his tanned cheeks. Looking at him too long was making his head swim.

Jack sat up, and with a couple of wordless gestures, and maybe a little too much effort, they flipped over. Jack worked his shirt buttons undone, straddling Snake's hips. He tossed the button up to the side so the two of them were on, "equal" terms. He ran his hands over Snake's chest, with one his own telnyashka stretched taut over his muscles. He carded a hand through his hair, leaning down to kiss Snake again, who was just _watching_ him with these hungry eyes. Snake looked like a predator, like he wanted to _devour_ him, not have sex with him.

Snake's wide hands fumbled with the buttons of his pants, and Jack's once he had finished. They helped each other shimmy away their pants, and Jack's drunken mind couldn't suppress the giggling that bubbled in his chest. Snake propped himself on his elbows and pulled Jack into a kiss, hand resting on the back of his neck. He twirled pale strands around his finger, licking and nipping at Jack's bottom lip.

Steadying himself on the bed, Jack rolled his hips with a sigh; with less clothes in the way, it was a lot easier to get distracted. Snake's tongue found its way in his mouth and a soft squeeze of his ass made him sit up straight, breaking the kiss. Snake was looking at him with a kind of, devious grin as he sat up, scooting back against the wall; both hands set on Jack's ass, squeezing and pulling him closer. Jack's cheeks flushed and his eyes darted around. It wasn't a, bad feeling or anything, mostly just something he wasn't accustomed to. He bit his lip. Snake rubbed circles into his hips with his thumb, and he didn't think about it much longer.

Jack leaned in to kiss at Snake's neck, and the man beneath him tensed, entire body freezing up. Confused, he pulled away to look at his face. A raised eyebrow instead of a spoken question. Snake swallowed thickly and he looked at the wall. His face looked paler, but maybe, it was just the lack of light.

"No marks," Snake breathed finally, voice unsteady. Jack took the time to catch his own breath before nodding. A weary grin set upon Snake's face. "Don't have anything to hide ‘em like you do, kid." The nickname made him straighten his back, and Jack pouted slightly. He was still set on calling him that? He wasn't sure if it actually bothered him, but it was a little strange given the situation.

"You must be a lecherous old man if you're still calling me kid," Jack said in a snippy voice, though completely teasing. A grumpy look crossed his face and he pulled him closer by his hips, grinding up against him. Jack's grin slipped from his face and he made a soft noise. The friction between them with just the slightest movement was enough to get his drunken little mind spinning again.

"I'm not that old," Snake said. Jack nodded away his words, and looked him over before hooking his fingers at the hem of Snake's shirt. He tugged a little, and they seamlessly eased back into wordless communication. Snake pulled his shirt over his head; Jack followed suit, tossing his own to the side. Snake's skin was riddled with bruises, most of them were gone but some too stubborn to fade, and a brilliant feeling rushed through Jack, knowing he was the cause of each and every one. There were a couple scars here and there, in places so odd Jack figured they were grazed bullet wounds.

He dipped down and kissed Snake feverishly, running his hands down Snake's chest. He pressed into a bruise on Snake's ribs, and he shuddered and groaned into his mouth, biting down on his lip.

Snake slid one hand away from his ass and between the two of them, tugging briefs out of the way to expose them both. He stroked their cocks together, and Jack moaned into his mouth, pulling his lip out from between Snake's teeth. No longer could he hear the tiny voice telling him this was a bad idea. Instead, his mind was, blank or at least, he thought it was. It was possibly, 100 percent filled with Snake.

Jack's hips bucked and he broke their kiss, shoulders sinking as he rested his forehead against Snake's shoulder. He took a few shaky breaths, trying not to lose it from just _this._ He wanted to prolong this, as much as he could. He, briefly, wondered if things would go back to the way they were. He swallowed thickly. Of course, they had to. Snake's hand moved with a slight urgency, and Jack could tell he was getting impatient.

He pulled away from Snake and they looked at each other for a moment, and Jack made a noise in the back of his throat. Snake nodded and Jack climbed off of him; sliding his briefs off on the way to the dresser, squinting in the dim light. A soft sigh came from the bed as he grabbed a small tube of lube and tore a condom off a stack of wrappers. Swaying slightly on his way back to the bed, he tossed the items at Snake, who caught them perfectly, like he was hardly drunk at all. Jack sat on the edge of the bed and promptly proceeded to zone out.

"Waiting for something?" Snake's voice impatient and gravelly voice startled him out of his trance. He looked back to Snake, sitting in the same position, a cocky sort of look on his face. Jack's lips twitched. Is that the way he wanted it? Fine then, he would. Jack scratched the back of his neck and grumbled softly, rolling his eyes before resuming his position in Snake's lap. Snake had far too much control of the situation, but Jack realised that he didn't really _care._ He wouldn't have wanted it any other way, if he was being honest.

"Be gentle," Jack said sarcastically, in Russian. Snake set one hand on his hip and only grinned at him. Jack sucked in a breath, put his hands on Snake's shoulders, and with a little bit of collaborative, if not clunky, effort, he was sat all the way down on Snake's cock after what felt like _forever._ Shuddering and trying to keep his breathing steady, Jack curled and uncurled his toes. He slowly doubled over, head sinking to rest in the crook of Snake's neck, and his arms went limp at his sides. The pain was, there, of course, but the haze of being drunk still hung over him and let him ignore it in favour of being warm all over.

Snake softly stroked his spine, an insanely calming gesture. He sat for a moment, syncing his own breathing to the rise and fall of Snake's chest. He pried himself away from the hot skin of Snake's shoulder and neck, and looked at him with a reddening face. It took him until _now_ to be as embarrassed as he was. Jack was, experienced, but the last time he had sex that he liked, kind of cared about, was in high school. They shared a look, quickly, and Snake gave him a short nod.

It was difficult for Jack to ride Snake, not from the movement itself, but the strain on his knees. It took him an awkward couple of tries, and accidentally pressing too hard into Snake's chest, but he thought he was getting the hang of it pretty well. His only judge was Snake's reactions; and by his wavering voice and the groans rolling out of his throat, he was doing pretty damn good. Snake's fingers dug into his hips and he helped, slightly, and little by little his sitting position was slowly turning into him laying down. Jack leaned back with just the tips of his fingers balancing him on Snake's chest, and instead of an up and down motion, he rolled his hips forward and back, grinding against him.

He forced himself to keep his eyes open, admiring the view below him; he couldn't help the lewd, high pitched moans escaping from between his lips, and the sight of Snake hungrily drinking in the sight of him only turned him on that much more.

Jack attempted to balance himself with one hand, so he could jerk himself off, but he couldn't really get a hold of it. A soft swear was all it took for Snake to knock his hand away, and stroke him in time to Jack's bouncing. He hunched over Snake, clenching his fists against his chest, panting heavily with the strain of movement. His voice climbed and climbed, and he had to leaned down further, his hips slowing slightly as he covered his mouth with his hand. He was going to be incredibly sore tomorrow, but hey, that was fine.

Even leaning down it was hard to move with one hand, and he felt hazy all over. His palm was sweaty against his mouth, but he dared not move it away, in fear of being too loud. Snake's hand around his cock was so good, and the sex was so good, he simply couldn't keep himself quiet through will alone. He was stopped, almost too suddenly, and in his confusion he didn't have time for much else than a startled noise before Snake was moving them around. He had sat up and wrapped himself around Jack, flipping them over a lot more fluidly than they had before. Jack's head spun rapidly, and Snake was moving again before it stopped.

Dazed and mostly glad he was relieved of moving by himself, he brought himself to wrap his arms around Snake's neck. His legs were spread incredibly lewdly on either side of Snake, but he hardly had the energy to lock them around Snake's waist.

"S-Snake…" Jack whined, back arching. " _Fuck_ , Snake…" Snake grunted, and he stroked Jack's cheek with his thumb.

"David," he huffed, and Jack looked up at him blearily. Snake pressed into him, slow and hard, leaning back slightly. Oh. Oh, his name. Jack laughed, slightly.

"David, then…" he murmured. David's cheeks flushed lightly, and he took a moment to readjust himself, one hand tucked in the crook of Jack's knee, and the other wrapped around his cock. His thick hand stroked him fast and skillfully, and it was not long before Jack was starting to see stars. Not wanting to hold back anymore, he let the heat and pressure and Snake's hand overwhelm him all at once. He clamped a hand over his mouth, and it hardly helped as his voice climbed and his breath quickened, come staining both of their stomachs as his orgasm rocked through his body. Snake gave him a moment to collect his breath, his thoughts, before pinning him to the bed by his wrists.

"A-ah, wai-"

"I'm not done yet," Snake growled, kissing him roughly. Jack felt like he was still climbing, and it was unbearable. His chest burned, and his voice could barely come out as Snake began to thrust into him without relent. He slammed hard against him as he held him down tightly, and every part of Jack throbbed. He struggled against the grip on his wrists, but Snake wasn't having any of it, kissing and biting his lips to distract him. His lips moved across his jaw, down his neck, before he sunk his teeth into the pale skin at his mercy. Jack whined, scrunching his eyes shut and giving up. His tongue tangled in his throat, but it wasn't like any kind of words were coming to him anyway. Snake leaned back, and Jack's neck throbbed in time with his heart beat, and he wanted to curse Snake out for giving him a damn hickey.

He tried to squint his eyes opens to watch Snake. He wanted to see. He _needed_ to see.

He was glad he forced himself to look. Snake was damn near the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his eyes on. His mouth hung open as his breaths left him, clipped, and hard, and his eyebrows knit together. His normally unkempt hair was even messier, and it was like his whole body was flushed from the red tint his tan skin was taking. Those clear eyes stared down at him, hazy, aroused, so intense Jack could hardly breathe. This was, quite possibly, the most disheveled Solid Snake could ever look. And it was probably the most attractive thing he'd ever seen.

Snake offered a slight, open-mouthed grin for a split second, before his eyes fluttered shut, and his hips came to a stop as he was pressed deep into Jack. He let out a soft, content groan, and hung his head so far his hair tickled Jack's chest. It only occurred to him that the condom he had thrown at Snake was sitting beside his head as he was pumped full of Snake's hot come, and he only struggled harder against Snake's grip on his wrists. Snake shuddered and steadily, his arms gave out under him. He collapsed, laying on top of Jack.

Jack huffed, squirming, but Snake only grumbled. He was so uncomfortable, and sticky, but he was just too damned tired to move. He gave up struggling after a moment, and just laid there, panting.

"Get off me," Jack mumbled, and Snake grumbled at him again. He wrapped his arms around Jack and rolled to the side, crushing him against his sweaty chest. The movement pulled Snake out of him, and he groaned, feeling incredibly _weird._ They listened to each other breath for a few solid minutes, and when both of them had finally started to steady, Snake let him go, and propped his head up in his hand.

"So much for a one time thing," Snake snickered, and the biggest shit-eating grin Jack had ever seen was plastered on his face. Jack put his hand over Snake's face and pushed him away, the heat radiating off his cheeks almost unbearable. He propped himself up, a frown crossing his features.

"I'm going to _kill_ you for coming inside of me. I even gave you a condom!" Snake's laughter was more of a bark than a real laugh, wolfish, and warm, and Jack's heart jumped into his throat. His stomach churned, and his face flushed deeper.

"Sorry, kid."

"You are so not, old man." Snake grunted and set his head down, closing his eyes.

Jack laid back down and rested his temple against Snake's bicep. Snake draped his other arm over his waist and pulled him closer, burying his face in his hair. Jack, hesitantly, wrapped his arm around Snake's chest, breathing in the smell of, well, sweat. Snake's breathing slowed, and he was asleep before Jack could count to ten. After a minute, he wriggled his way out from Snake's arms and stood up.

His legs wobbled underneath him, but there was no way he was going to sleep with come in his ass and sweat covering his whole body. He quietly shuffled around his room, a headache creeping up on him as he gathered clean clothes to sleep in. He looked at Snake for a moment, and his heart thrummed in his ears. He ducked out, blushing madly, and locked himself in the bathroom.

Getting drunk with Solid Snake, on a Goddamn… What day was it, even? Jack shook his head and turned on the shower, setting his clothes on the sink, He shuddered, increasingly aware of and uncomfortable by the come dribbling down his legs, and he forced himself under the cold water. It felt, awful, but maybe it would clear his head. Jack stared bleakly at the wall, and took the slowest, coldest shower of his life.

_I fucked up. I fucked up really, really bad._

He stared at himself in the mirror, stared at the dark purple hickey practically glowing against his pale skin.

What was he _doing_?


	8. Let's Fall In Love

"There's nothing wrong with something like this, right?" Jack asked with a soft, nervous laugh. As stressful as the current conversation was, in the back of his mind, he couldn't be more grateful that his grandfather was still in his life. It felt like he had, no one, to really talk to, but with the man who had raised him his entire life, he was comfortable. Well. More comfortable than with anyone else. On the other end of the line, his grandfather was silent. Jack put his head in his hands, almost dropping his phone. This was not the situation he imagined himself to be in when Snake first arrived two weeks ago.

Who could have ever seen it coming? It was not supposed to turn out like this; how could we have ever predicted developing such strange feelings for a _prisoner_? With the judging silence from his grandfather ringing in his ears as crackling white noise, Jack ran a hand through his hair and sat back in his chair, switching his phone from one ear to the other.

"Okay, so maybe… Maybe I messed up. Maybe I fucked up, like, a lot," Jack admitted begrudgingly.

"Only a little," Ivan said lightly.

"What am I supposed to do, _dedushka_?" Only someone like his grandfather was allowed to hear him acting so _pathetic_ ; and even Lieutenant General Raikov, who thought he was the _sun_ wanted nothing to do with his complaining. Jack kicked his legs up and sighed. "Maybe I should just kill him…"

Ivan laughed on the other end at his mumbled thought, and Jack blinked. That was, sort of not a joke, nor was it supposed to be funny at all. He frowned a little and scratched at the nape of his neck, letting his eyes wander around the room. It was nearing afternoon, which meant the interrogation room had been waiting for too long, now. The hairs on the back of his neck stood, and he shuddered.

"Don't be so hasty, _molynia_ , he could be very useful," Ivan said teasingly; Jack tensed a little and narrowed his eyes. That cute little pet name of a name he earned out in the field was really annoying at a time like this. Though, he supposed he didn't really want his grandfather calling him _Raiden._ Really, he had earned _molynia_ first. He wondered momentarily if Raiden had been a joke based on that. The thought made his lip twitch; his grandfather better not call him that to his peers. He sighed and inspected his nails idly.

"It's not like he's going to actually be useful, even…" his voice trailed off and he groaned.

"You don't care about him, do you?"

Jack stopped in the middle of picking at his nail, blinking slowly. Now there was a ridiculous notion if he had ever heard one. Him, care about Snake? He thought, too hard, and the hangover looming in the back of his mind throbbed once, painfully. He wrinkled his nose and opened his mouth to speak. He sucked in a breath, but words failed him. He hesitated for much too long, and Ivan hummed knowingly. Jack clicked his tongue.

"I don't," Jack said before Ivan could interject. "I do not care about him."

"Proceed with caution," Ivan mused. "Play your little game, dear, but don't let it get out of hand." Jack could hear a knock through the phone and pulled his legs off the table. It was time for their conversation to end. He sighed, hearing the words before they were spoken.

"We'll talk again soon, Major."

"Good-bye, Sir."

Jack folded his phone with a clack and leaned forward on his desk, exhaling slowly. His head throbbed. He stared pointedly at the wood inches away from his eyes and _tsk_ ed quietly. Care about Solid Snake? No, that was _preposterous._ He was the enemy! He was only _physically_ attracted to Snake. That's all it was, and it would end, today. He swallowed, and his heart hurt almost as much as his head. Jack took a few deep, soothing breaths, and then jumped up. He fixed his coat and grabbed his beret, setting it straight on his hair. He brushed his bangs out of his eyes and tucked the rest of his hair behind his ears.

  
_Jack's alarm went off at o'dark thirty and he shot up in bed, staring down at one Solid Snake, who was taking up almost his entire bed. He grumbled and reached for his phone, turning the alarm off with startling quickness for someone awoken so suddenly. Snake grumbled and rolled over, and Jack rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He grabbed Snake by the shoulder and turned him onto his back, swinging his leg over and sitting on his lap._

_Snake blinked through the darkness, hands resting on his thighs._

_"_ Dobero utro _," Jack said sweetly._

_"What time is it?"_

_"Time for you to get out of my bed." Punctuated by a swift punch in the nose._

_"F- God, damnit," Snake groaned, clutching his face. Jack stood up and quickly got dressed in something more, appropriate to be seen in, and tossed all of Snake's clothes on the bed._

_"Don't get blood on my sheets," Jack muttered darkly, and Snake swore up a storm as he put his clothes back on. He looked at his incredibly disgusting undershirt before pulling it over his head, wiping his bleeding nose across it. They stalked through the halls, and into the stairwell, where Jack shoved him into a wall and angrily made out with him before almost pushing him down the rest of the stairs. Too confused and tired to question much of anything, David did as he was, gestured to._

_Jack led him to his cell, glared at the soldier standing guard, and shoved Snake through the door. The guard looked at the watch on his wrist, raised an eyebrow, and Jack glared harder before he stormed back to his room to sleep for a couple more hours._

  
"We're back here," David said slowly, clears eyes looking around the interrogation room like he'd never been in it before. Room 101 was exactly the same, with its plain, dingy walls, and the single table he was seated in front of, just like old times. There was a blood stain by the door where David had smashed Jack's face into the concrete. He shouldn't have expected anything else, but he was thinking that maybe, if he got close to the major, he could get something done. He was damn near ready to start killing people to get out of this place, and he really did not like killing people.

Here he was in handcuffs again, with Major Raikov glaring at the wall across the table from him, and it was the like the previous night had not even happened at all. Or the night prior to _that_ one, either. A slow, measured exhale left the major and he took his cap off, hanging it over the chair. He scratched the top of his head wearily, messing up pale locks just slightly, and looked at him with something David could only identify as a pout. It was quickly dissolved.

"But of course," Jack said as icily as he could muster through how obviously tired he was. "Did you think anything else would happen? We've had our fun, but we _really_ need to get back to… Business." He stood, pressing his hands firmly against the cold metal table. He stared David down with eyes much colder than his voice, and David refused to look away. Major Raikov caved, broke contact, and straightened his back. He inspected his fingernails boredly.

"Of… Course," David muttered. He twisted his wrists a little, but was otherwise still. Another plan down the drain before he could even formulate it properly. In the silence he let out a swear out from under his breath, and he had to catch himself before he hung his head. It was rare he actually found someone who could counter all of his ideas. There hadn't been someone since… It was almost enough to make him laugh. Not a great comparison. Once again, someone could combat the famous Solid Snake, huh?

He realised while he was cursing to himself, Jack was speaking, and he was only half listening. He was taking an uncomfortably vocal approach to try and get him to talk. Threats, probably? He was mostly focused on trying to see if there was any other way for him to get close to the major. Were there even any other benefits? He was steadily moving towards David as he spoke, the threatening look in his eyes only gradually growing darker, more, _sincere._ In the end, he was completely tuning Jack out, and not a word he said processed in his mind. He stared blankly as Jack reached for his belt.

" _But_ , I suppose if you're going to remain stubborn, then I have no further use for you."

Those words clicked, though.

"Ah," was all Snake could manage as the barrel of Jack's Makarov pressed against his forehead.

  
They locked eyes. Jack pulled the safety back. There was no fear in Snake's eyes. On one hand, he would not have to deal with this anymore. On the other, he was gaining nothing from killing Snake besides wasted time. On a third, unidentifiable hand, he was already _here._ Snake's eyes were very clear, not only in their colour, but Jack could not read a single thing in them. Not fear, regret, or remorse. They were the most sincere, ready eyes he had ever seen.

His arm dropped and he averted his gaze.

Snake let out the breath he was holding and watched as Jack leaned against the table, and slowly sunk to his knees.

"... Have you ever killed a man?" Snake asked.

"Yes," Jack croaked.

"Would you do it again?"

Jack was a soldier, a soldier in a _war._ He had killed plenty of people. He had looked them all in the eyes. Jack gaped at him, and for a second, his young face was very pale, and he wore a pained expression. He could tell Snake didn't know what kind of answer to expect. Jack's features dropped, and he looked away again. He spoke in the softest, driest, most vulnerable tone he'd ever let anyone in his life hear.

"No."

Snake sighed in relief. Jack slumped and leaned against the leg of the table, his shoulders drooping. Snake shifted in his chair, and gently nudged Jack's knee with his foot. He gave no physical, or audible response, simply staring at the gun in his hands.

"Then don't."

"You're only saying that to save your own life," Jack spat, exasperated, hands clenching into fists. He shoved the gun back into its holster. "I should have killed you a week ago. Then maybe I wouldn't…" His voice trailed off and he hung his head further, letting out a shaky sigh. Snake had nothing to say, apparently. Jack stood up eventually, leaning heavily with his hands on the table. If he wasn't careful, he was going to knock it over and hurt himself. Before he could speak, Snake beat him to it, and his tongue dried in his throat.

"You wouldn't what?"

Jack just turned to him with wide eyes. He was not angry or embarrassed, just filled with almost, childlike fear. They gradually narrowed, and his lips set into a straight line. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. Snake didn't look away from him. He had no obligations to share his feelings with this man. He had no obligations to keep him alive. He could just order his men to kill Snake and the blood would no longer have to be on his hands.

"I wouldn't hesitate when someone asks if I care about you."

He watched, slowly, as Snake's face dropped, and he didn't have to speak to very clearly hear him say _Oh no_.

  
David sat up a little straighter. He wrinkled his nose and his lips parted slightly, and when no words came to him, Jack could swear he heard his teeth click when he shut his mouth. The colour slowly drained out of Jack's face, and he turned around to hide his own shame. No words were spoken for what must have been two minutes.

"Kid-"

"Don't call me that."

"Raikov-"

"Don't. Speak at all."

Jack sighed his heaviest sigh and slowly turned around, his demeanor introverted and uncomfortable.

"You're the enemy. This war. Whatever. I know. I have a good memory, so last night, is," Jack cut himself off and raked a hand through his hair. His tongue was heavy in his mouth, and everything felt like it was going in slow motion. He sighed. "I know so much about you. I… It's hard to, hate you?" He cast his gaze to the floor and his stomach sank. He rounded the table to sit back in his chair, putting his head in his hands.

"I am confused? Maybe. If this were another place, another time, I keep wondering if…" David listened, patient, practically holding his breath. This was his chance. He shifted in his chair, wishing the handcuffs were not present. There were so many moves he could pull right now, he just needed the right cue. Jack sighed, and he sounded near tears. Frustrated was written clearly across his face.

"Maybe, things would be different, between us."

He needed to approach this, cautiously.

"Things can be different… Jack."

  
Major Raikov laughed, and it was clipped, and bitter, and he threw his head back and let the laughter shake him. David stared at him with the most serious gaze he could muster. He was not a good actor, or a good liar, or a good person, but he was damn well confident he could do something like this. As Raikov's laughter died down, he wiped at his eyes and leaned against the table, shaking his head slowly.

"You're a _fucking idiot,"_ Jack hissed in English, playing idly with the ends of his hair. He took a deep breath and sighed it out, looking back to David. When confronted with that sincere look, he bit his lip, and flinched. He was probably hoping such an expression would not be waiting for him. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and cleared his throat. He looked around the room, as if someone could be listening. "I'll bite."

"I'm not here for any other reason besides orders. And I'm thinking maybe we can help each other out," David explained, quiet and careful. He took a breath and blinked slowly. "I know how you feel. I feel, strangely, about you, and I can't help but think about… Things." Jack rolled his eyes but held his tongue. He could feel the scrutiny in the major's gaze, but he soldiered on. David shifted his shoulders and tried to turn a little in his chair.

"I want to know more about you. I want to be able to, sit and talk like that again. I don't… Want us to be just, enemies." The words hung in the air, and Jack looked as if he were drowning. David was sure he didn't, look like he was bluffing, but he knew he wasn't the most convincing person. It was understandable that Jack didn't look like he believed him for a second. He stared at him for a long time, not saying anything, and David felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"Everything you say is stupid. How can I go against my own orders, my own country, just to help a man I, I, have a, stupid crush on? I have the power to end your life, right now! And you are, you are here trying to, to, I don't even know what you are trying to do!" Jack rubbed his face, exasperated, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed, resigning his gaze to stare at the surface of the table. "You talk crazy."

"I know," David said uneasily. "Like you said, though, it… It's hard to hate you. As much as the bruises on my skin, and the American blood running through my veins are telling me to, you're just, another person, doing their job. Just like me." He bit the inside of his cheek, mulling over his next words. He hung his head and shook it, sighing. "I didn't expect to be in this situation, and I'm sure you didn't, either."

Jack's eyes flashed, and he put his chin in his hand, looking at the wall to his left rather than at David. He clearly didn't want to be in that chair, listening to whatever idiotic words he was spouting, but David could see something, _crack._ They were both men just trying to do their jobs. They never asked for the predicament they were in. David wasn't sure if he should lose hope or not. Jack closed his eyes, and slumped down onto the table. David took a breath.

"It just… Happened."

  
"You're just trying to confuse me," Jack all but _whined_ in Russian. He didn't want to fall into this man's trap. There was not a doubt in his mind that Snake was only doing this as some sort of plan, that would gain him his freedom. He didn't want to be toyed with like this. Jack wanted nothing more than to leave, order Snake's death, and drink in his office until he forget this ever happened. So he could forget Solid Snake, trying to form some kind of deeper bond with him even though they were enemies, essentially ordered to kill each other on sight.

"I'm not a very good liar," David grumbled, a hint of embarrassment showing through his serious tone. "You would have killed me by now if I was trying to trick you, because you'd, probably know instantly." He wished he had free reign of his hands. Jack brought his eyes to David's face, and searched it thoroughly. David was indeed a man who was mostly transparent with his _actions,_ though not necessarily his _emotions._ There was still so much room for deceit, or things much more dangerous, but Jack could hardly tell what he wanted anymore.

"This is hardly believable," Jack croaked, uncaring to how dry his mouth was at this point. He licked his lips absentmindedly. "Sleeping with me twice, and drunkenly telling stories about each other… Leads us… Here… Contemplating mutiny and something akin to… What is the word? Infidelity?" David failed at catching the short laugh before it left him.

"Infidelity isn't really the word you're looking for, but I'll give you a pass."

They were joking with tension hanging in the air so thickly it was hard to move, hard to breathe. Jack's ears burned at his mistake, but he did not react otherwise. A long silence fell between them, as Jack contemplated his entire life up to this point, and David actually started to think he was fooling himself, too. He wasn't sure if what he was saying was the truth, or a lie to set himself free, but it was certainly proving to be convincing _enough_ that a terrible liar such as himself was likely to get away with it.

"This is a very strange way to ask somebody out," Jack said meekly, after a couple of minutes, and David looked up. "Not to mention a terrible time, and a terrible idea." He laughed nervously and pinned his eyes to the ground. Something like hope welled in David's chest.

"Should I have left a note in your locker? Go out with me? Circle Yes or No?" Jack's laugh was sputtering and high pitched. His cheeks reddened softly, and he dragged a hand down his face.

"You have very poor comedic timing." He felt so strange. The atmosphere which had been so tight just minutes ago had dissolved into something warm and light, and Jack found himself practically at ease. This was ridiculous. This entire thing, this entire day, these entire two weeks. He found himself thinking about how dull his life had been before Snake showed up. How boring it would have continued to be if he hadn't shown up at all. He found himself thinking about how exciting it would be now that he was contemplating some kind of, secret relationship with his Goddamn prisoner.

Jack rubbed the back of his head before smoothing down his hair and putting his hat back on. He stood up from his chair, and David's eyes followed him. He felt he looked a little too much like a hopeful kid waiting for his crush's response.

"I'll come back for you later," Jack said warily. "My head hurts." He lifted his hand and gave a little wave, an uncharacteristically casual gesture from him, before he shuffled to the door and slipped out. David was unsure if he should congratulate himself, but the door opened again to show guards before he could decide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dedushka - grandfather  
> molynia - it's a petname name based on the word lightning  
> dobreo utro - good morning


	9. Iron

David spent two days in his cell without a word from Major Raikov. Every passing moment was driving him closer to snapping. He wondered (briefly? No, this was more like dwelling) if this kind of plan was actually going to work. If he could still call it a plan. He didn’t know who he was still trying to kid, Raikov or himself. The major was young, a naive little, but he was smart. The reason David hadn’t seen the major in so long was probably because he was thinking about every possible angle, every possible outcome for their stupid little idea. One wrong move and one of them, or both of them, could ( _would_ ) end up dead.

Was that really a risk he was willing to take? He could have just kept… _Trying_ , really, and eventually he would succeed. He was Solid Snake, damnit. He was _the_ Solid Snake, damnit, he could do anything.

(Well. Maybe not _anything._ )

He was mostly impressed by the fact that he wasn’t dead yet, honestly. First thought upon getting captured is he was just going to get taken out. That’s really the… Smartest idea, when you capture legendary soldiers, and such. All his life he had thought he was an exceptional soldier, but this damn mission just made him feel like he was exceptionally lucky. Lucky to get stuck with some kid who couldn’t keep his head on straight, lucky to get captured in the middle of nowhere, and lucky that Raikov was so starved for action that his capture was still a secret.

Thinking about it, was it still a secret? He would definitely be dead if it wasn’t, so there was that _comforting_ little factor.

His best bet at the moment was that Jack Raikov’s emotions were, volatile enough that he would agree to this, and that he could slowly coerce an escape plan out of the major. Whether his status as a POW was still a secret was definitely a key piece of the plan; if it were to come out that he _was_ here… Would the major even consider this a possibility if it meant he could be outed for treason?

He was thinking too much. Couldn’t really immerse himself in the act if he was overthinking, now could he?

… If this was still an act.

David swore, sighed, stretched his legs out on the cot. He missed sleeping in a bed (not a thought he had often, really). How long had he been in this place, anyways? Two weeks? And they probably already sent someone else in to do his job, figured him dead. Oh, he would do his damn job, he would come back alive, and he’d tell Campbell to fuck off the next time he tried to pull him out of retirement. He wasn’t even old and he was getting too old for this shit.

 

Jack had lost his mind. This wasn’t actually happening, he had decided, and he had lost his mind on the battlefield and he was locked up somewhere. Everything about this was _preposterous_ , and the fact that he was even, _considering_ something like this was beyond impossible. The unimaginable absurdity of it all. Inconceivable and unthinkable! He could exhaust the thesaurus all he wanted, really, but he couldn’t quite wrap his head around a word _heavy_ enough, in English or Russian.

Maybe he wasn’t crazy, per se, maybe he was in a _coma_ and this was some elaborate coma/fever dream that he was suffering through. Him! And Solid Snake! And _the enemy_ , even! Here he was, considering it. All because _that guy_ was… God, what was he doing?

He dragged his hands down his face. What kind of divine punishment was this? He really should have just killed him once he realised _something_ was going awry. It wasn’t his fault, it was…

(Snake’s fault?)

Jack shook his head. It had been two days and he had hardly left his office. He was keeping busy with the stacks and piles of paper, completely ignoring his phone, completely ignoring everything outside to keep himself in. Had he even showered? He vaguely recalled being clean at least once in the past couple of days.

Maybe he just needed some fresh air (fake fresh air, this wasn’t real, after all).

So that’s what he _did_ , he straightened his uniform, he left his office, and he made a beeline for the closest door. Someone said something to him along the way, and he plainly ignored them. He stood outside, crisp November air filtering in and stinging his lungs. The year was coming to a close. Christmas was soon. War and Christmastime was a funny thought. He had heard stories of the Christmas Truce, and he wasn’t sure something like that could happen in this day and age.

Coming outside had meant to clear his head, but he was just downright cold. His breath shuddered out, visible in front of him before disappearing. Maybe it was time to bring out his coat. It wasn’t even winter yet. His barren forest was speckled brown and white, green still sticking desperately to the trees. Clouds hung overhead, threatening snow if the humidity spiked and the temperature dropped.

Major Raikov shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled his phone out. He squinted as he scrolled through his messages, lip curling. He removed his cap, carded a hand through his hair, and jammed his finger on the call button, shoving his phone between his shoulder and his ear. He began to circle the building leisurely, a scowl fixed on his face.

_“Privjet, Jack.”_

“Did you already leave?” Jack hissed into the receiver, switching ears and shoving his hands into his pockets. The tips of his fingers were already going numb. There was a bit of shuffling and a low hum, along with the crackling static of poor service.

_“Would you be mad if I said yes?”_

“Livid.” He turned a corner, settling with his back against the front wall, staring down the road. Straining to hear Samuel’s car. There was a bit of silence on the other line, and then a laugh.

_“I very well can’t turn around until I get there, so I may as well stay for a visit.”_

“No, no, you will not stay for a visit.” Samuel sighed on the other line and put his hand to the receiver, muffling his conversation with his driver. The phone rustled in his ear as his colleague put it back to his ear.

_“Is it such a crime for me to come see you?”_

Jack sighed, leaned his head back against the stone wall, and all about growled out a _da_ in response. He could practically hear Sam frown.

“Major Rodrigues,” he scolded, “don’t you have better things to do than bother me?” The other major laughed and there was a bit more rustling as Samuel moved his phone around. He hummed low, melodically, and Jack could swear he heard him shrug.

_“No, not particularly. Can you at least offer me a cup of coffee?”_

Jack was about ready to rip his hair out. He took the phone from his ear to glance at the time and sighed, shouldering the device again and taking another moment to think over his response. Currently, the only person who knew Solid Snake was in his, possession? Was his grandfather. He would take his secret to his goddamn _grave_ if he had to. He would show up to his grandfather’s meeting with war-ending intel and he would get promotions out the ass, and he could not have to worry about this shit anymore. Certainly, he could let Samuel in and not let him near the holding cells, it was quite out of the way from most of the offices.

He almost threw his phone down when he picked up the sound of a car, not too far away.

He must have been far too late calling.

“Fine. Coffee, and then you leave.”

_“Prekrasno! I’ll be there in a moment, Jack.”_

Before he could get another word in, the line cut and blared the dial tone in his ear, and he snapped his phone shut, shoving it into his pocket. The rumbling of the engine got closer, until he could see the car through the thick trees, rattling along the dirt road leading straight to the building. Around a corner and the car could have hit him if it just kept coming forward.

_Please, God, just put me down._

The driver pulled to the side and Samuel slid out of the back, seating his cap on his dark hair, and straightening his broad shoulders. That terrible grin set upon his face, he closed the space between them with brisk footsteps and clapped him on the shoulder.

“You didn’t have to wait outside for me, _tovarishch_!” he crowed, that insufferable grin of his growing even wider. Jack blew his bangs out of his eyes instead of groaning, and slipped from between Samuel and the wall before he got even closer.

“I was already outside,” he huffed, tilting his head towards the door. The two majors entered the building, Rodrigues hot on Raikov’s tail as he stalked through the hallways toward the mess hall. There was a small gathering of four or five soldiers in one corner, chatting over their lunches, but all else was quiet. Jack stalked over to the coffee maker, emptied the no doubt three hour old coffee, and made an entire fuss about brewing a new pot.

He hadn’t exactly used a coffee maker before, but he got the general idea. He just wanted Samuel to leave. Immediately, preferably.

Samuel watched with an amused look on his face, his frame relaxed as he placed his hands over Jack’s as he struggled to open a package of instant coffee. He froze and allowed the other to tear the bag open, and shrunk into himself as Samuel leaned over (against) him to pour it into the maker. Jack ducked away and leaned against the counter, a small pout crossing his features.

“You don’t even want to show me around?” Samuel teased, laying his stupid accent on thick. The man spoke Russian perfectly, but he preferred to converse in English just so he could parade his stupid accent around. The scattered Russian was just another nail on the head. He hated the way he talked. Jack rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest, teal eyes finding anywhere to look but the other man.

“You’ve been here before. It’s not like anything has changed,” he grumbled, almost inaudibly as the coffee pot whirred and steamed to life. Samuel laughed and led him to a near table by the arm, settling with his chin in one hand as he talked animatedly with the other.

It wasn’t like Jack _hated_ Sam, he guessed, it was more that he always caught him in a foul mood, and his demeanor did nothing to help. Though, he supposed he was _always_ in a foul mood, so there was just no hope for dear Samuel Rodrigues. Jack had always been a socially stunted person, and he had a hard time dealing with the flirty, outgoing type. It especially didn’t help when they latched on to him the way Sam did.

Jack intently watched the coffee drip, anxious and impatient to get the other major out of his hair. Once the light came on to signify it was done, he interrupted Samuel as he stood up abruptly, stalking over to the counter and pulling two mugs from the cupboard; trying his best not to slam them down, and trying his best not to spill coffee everywhere, he poured the both of them coffee and strode back over to the table, setting them down as gently as he could. Samuel blinked at him, and he smiled warmly.

“You were saying?” he trilled, sitting down and punctuating his question with a large gulp of hot, black coffee. He almost choked, but dignity and spite let it go down smoothly, even if his tongue was already starting to tingle. Samuel stared at his mug of steaming coffee and cleared his throat, smiling plainly.

“Cream and sugar?” he asked carefully, like Jack might look down on him (he didn’t, Jack hated black coffee) or just straight up explode. Jack set his mug down and stood back up, raising his eyebrow instead of asking a question. “Two and two, _pozhaluista_.” After correcting his mistake, Jack returned to the table, the warm smile wiped off his face already. He let Samuel continue to jabber on about God knows what, and it wasn’t until he trailed off and his gaze focused behind Sam that he realised someone was standing next to Jack.

He made a mental note to tell everyone that if Major Rodrigues around it was encouraged to interrupt him if Jack’s attention was needed elsewhere. Jack slowly turned, eyeing the lieutenant who was staring at Samuel nervously.

“ _Chto_ ?” The soldier hastily saluted and bent his knees, speaking into the major’s ear. Oh, yes. That was just the kind of thing he needed, a good enough reason to kick Rodrigues out and get back to brooding and overthinking. He looked back to Samuel, folding his hands in front of his mug of coffee. “ _Spasibo._ ” Samuel raised his eyebrow.

“Well, Major Rodrigues, I’m afraid I have to cut our coffee date short,” he continued in English, eyes narrowed as he plastered an almost kind smile on to his face. Almost. Samuel frowned and stared into his mug for a brief second. “Wouldn’t want to waste too much of your driver’s gas, hmm? I’ll escort you out.” He rounded the table and grabbed the other major by the arm and pulled him out of his seat with far too much ease. Before Sam could even sputter a reply, they were halfway to the front door.

“What is this, some kind of secret?” the brunet finally managed as Jack was pushing open the door. The smile curling Jack’s lips was almost unsettling at this point, and it was obvious on the other man’s face.

“Give my regards to Wolfy,” Jack said in a voice too pleasant, shoving the other out the door and slamming it shut. Samuel stood for a moment, blinked, looked at his driver, and shrugged.

Jack stalked back to the mess hall, grabbed his mug of coffee and downed it, and then finished off Samuel’s mug as well. It burned his throat and his tongue and his stomach, but he didn’t care. He searched for the lieutenant who had given him the information sufficient enough to kick Samuel out, and didn’t spot him. He took the mugs to the sink and left them with water to soak before storming out of the room. His gait slowed to a leisurely walk, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

He practically had to force himself through the door to the holding cells, and he all but mentally dragged himself to the end of the hall, saluting his lieutenant lazily and sending him on his way. Jack scratched at his cheek before stepping into view, trying to look as composed as possible.

Snake gave him a two finger salute, his hands cuffed in front of him. He told them to stop doing that weeks ago, didn’t he? He looked the other over and raised his eyebrows.

“Morning, major,” Snake said in a tone resembling cheery. Jack huffed and put his hands on his hips. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to wipe that look off his face with his fists or his mouth.

“It’s 4 PM,” he chided. Snake raised his eyebrows and shrugged. They stared at each other in silence for a moment before Jack cleared his throat. “Did you request my audience just to stare at me?” he muttered, trying hard not to let his ears burn. He tugged at his cap slightly.

“Kinda,” Jack bit his tongue as the brunet began to grin at him. “No, I wanted to talk.”

“We seem to have lots of talks,” Jack said, rummaging through his breast pocket to pull out the key to Snake’s cell. Snake shrugged his shoulders and offered a grin and not much else. He paused, key shoved in the lock but not turned, and squinted through the bars. “Which…” his voice trailed off and he looked around for a moment. He looked down the corridor, and sighed. “Which room are we talking in?” He felt so stupid asking that. He was the one who was supposed to make that kind of decision, damnit.

Snake couldn’t catch the genuine laugh that rumbled through his chest. Jack didn’t know if he was angry or embarrassed, but he liked hearing that sound. Wanted to hear it more. He held his hands up with a smug look.

“Hopefully not the interrogation room.”

Jack wearily stared at him a moment longer before turning the key and beckoning Snake to stand and follow. They weaved through the halls; it was more difficult in the dead of the afternoon to get to Jack’s office while avoiding anyone. Solid Snake was good at sneaking around, sure, but it wasn’t really Jack’s forte. The door clicked shut and they stood in silence for a moment; Jack was, hesitant to turn around. He took a quiet breath, attempting to compose himself.

With a lot more grace than someone in handcuffs should have, Snake grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, pinning him to the door with his hands on either side of his neck. The cold chain jingled and pressed slightly against his throat, and his breath hitched, was stolen anyways as Snake kissed him. He didn’t know whether to kiss back or punch him.

Jack didn’t know a lot of things.

Snake didn’t relent until he pushed him away.

“What are you doing?” he muttered, trying not to look into those clear eyes.

“Giving you my answer.” Jack bristled and shot the brunet a glare.

“It’s not _your_ answer we were waiting for!” Snake only grinned and sunk the chain harder against his throat. Jack shut his mouth, his cheeks dusting pink. He swallowed thickly around it, reached up to gingerly touch it. Snake removed his hands from the door and marveled at the shivering draw of breath Major Raikov had to take, before he gathered unguarded wrists in his hands and pinned them above the blond’s head.

“So what are _you_ waiting for?” Snake murmured in his ear, breath hotter than the heat thrumming from the furnace. Jack bit his tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> privjet // hello  
> prekrasno // magnificent  
> tovarishch // comrade  
> pozhaluista // please  
> chto // what


	10. One Wrong Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H.....HI  
> my beta reader is asleep and so am i

That was that, really. He couldn't find a reason to justify himself to his grandfather, so he didn't call. His soldiers didn't question him. Wouldn't question him. They liked him. They figured he was just going about things in his own way, probably. They trusted him.

They really shouldn't.

He was being led by, lust and something like burning curiosity. Yearning for… Whatever this was. He hadn't dated anyone since before he enlisted. What the hell was he thinking, this wasn't _dating_ , this was a goddamn affair. This wasn't anything but a _fling_ , something to keep him… Keep him from…

Who was he kidding. He was interested, he was curious, and fuck it all, Snake was the hottest man he'd ever seen. He was almost thirty, he could stand to act like it sometime this millennia. Jack wasn't even all too sure on what this entailed, really. Were they, _together_? This was stupid.

He was stupid.

Dragging his eyes to the clock on the wall, Jack let his head fall to the desk. Was insomnia something you could just develop? He turned his head, resting his cheek against the cool wood, listened to the thrum of the heater, listened to his pulse until they were the only things that existed.

0300 was the perfect time to visit his brand new not-boyfriend.

 

David was not used to being woken up at all. In fact, he rarely slept because he was too busy thinking, formulating, generally just wallowing in his own incapability to do his job. When he did sleep, it was just unpleasant. He only had nightmares.

Yet the sound of Russian was pulling him away from something he couldn't remember; his eyes snapped open and he lay there, quietly breathing, listening, filtering, translating.

"I've already prepared it myself," Jack Raikov's voice was cold and smooth when talking to his soldiers. He was a mix of charm and authority, a perfect fit to be in command. He closed his eyes, tuned out the soldier on watch.

"Nonsense, I've rested all day."

"Yes, thank you."

"You may take your leave."

 

The butt of an AK clanged against the bar of the cell.

" _Vstavay_!" David didn't need to be told twice. He sat up, blinking in the dim yellow light. What time even was it? All he saw of the guard as the back of his head as he moved down the hall, and Jack Raikov staring at him. The backlighting made it hard to discern his face. Key in the lock, the door was open, and the major stepped in to pull him out of bed. He couldn't think of a question, and let himself be led down the hall, to interrogation room 101.

David raised an eyebrow, slowly, but didn't really question it. Second thoughts, probably. A thousand thoughts sped through his mind, and he eyed the gun at the major's hip. Even handcuffed he could easily take it. Major Raikov put him in a seat, sat across from him, took of his gloves, and set his chin atop his folded hands.

"Why did you become a soldier?"

The ball from left field hit him square in the jaw, and he stared forward with a furrowed brow. He supposed being suspicious was the last thing the major needed on his plate. Room 101 was safe. The door had no window, was easily locked. They were alone and that was perfectly fine. David pulled his hands up and scratched his cheek. Why did he become a soldier?

_I'm not like you. I love life!_

He bit the inside of his cheek almost hard enough to cut it open.

"Not much else to do when you live in a podunk town but go to the big city and join the military." It wasn't a lie. He had lived in the middle of nowhere, grown up talking to other kids about the military, jumping from foster home to foster home to foster home until someone liked him enough to keep him. He lied about his age, signed up before he graduated high school, was shipped off to God knows where.

He just stuck around a little too long, is all.

Major Raikov wore a puzzled expression, searching his face. Not a very good, or exciting answer. His answer was probably something about patriotism, loving his country or whatever. No, David was just… This was the only thing he had.

"What is… Podunk?" Oh. David laughed, leaned over the table and set his head against his hands for a moment. Right. They don't teach you hick slang in fancy Russian academies. David sat back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head and humming slightly. The blond was looking at him fondly, and he wondered if he noticed.

"Small place. Middle of nowhere," David said. He nodded slowly, and his eyes trailed off. David decided to press. "What about you?" The major looked just as shocked as he was to be asked such a question. He ducked his head a little, hiding his mouth behind his hands, and he stared pointedly at the table. Something bitter crossed his face, and he shook it away.

"Family business," he muttered, a sardonic twinge settling in his tone, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap.

 

The silence stretched, and David pressed on.

"Seems we have that in common," it was now that he was wondering if he should evaluate just how much he was willing to share. Ever since FOXHOUND, he had sworn to keeping things to himself. He'd been betrayed one too many times in two years, that he didn't need any emotional dirt kept on him by others. FOXHOUND had been a mistake, Zanzibarland had been a mistake, Master Miller was a mistake, and Gray Fox was a mistake. He swallowed thickly.

"Tell me about Shadow Moses," Jack said softly, and David took on a grim expression. Was that too much? He should probably have taken this a little more slowly. Sure, they had already learned things about the other, but they weren't, substantial facts. High school. Years ago. David seemed to mull it over, and then he sighed, putting his hands back on the table. Jack fished for the key for the cuffs, took his (warm) hands and pulled them closer. He fumbled slightly, but took them off. David rubbed his wrists.

"My brother was leading the terrorists," David said gruffly. Jack blinked.

"Oh."

"We didn't grow up together. We uh…" David trailed off, ran a hand through his matted hair, scratched at the beard growing on his chin, sighed. "Aren't a normal family." Jack wondered if he could relate.

"My grandparents raised me," Jack offered quietly. David laughed through his nose, crossed his ankles under the table. Were Jack's parents dead? Or just out of the picture? He looked at the ceiling for a moment, mulled it over. It's not like it was top-secret information, right? Just… _That_ project. His tongue felt dry in his mouth, and he was having trouble figuring out a way to word it. Was he just supposed to say it, willy-nilly? Jack was staring at his feet.

"My parents died overseas soon after I was born. My grandmother didn't want me because she hates my grandfather, so he took me in and raised me with his…" his voice trailed off. His grandparents weren't married. What was the proper word? He hummed, licked his lip, quizzically stared at the wall. "Companion."

David raised an eyebrow. "Companion."

"You know, like a," Jack felt weird using the word for a couple of crazy old men. "Boyfriend?"

"Partner works," David laughed shortly, and Jack's ears burned.

"Partner, then."

Jack squirmed in his seat. He wasn't satisfied. How was David's family 'not normal'? Possibilities swam around in his head, and he sighed slightly. If David wasn't keen on sharing, that was fine. He could control a conversation if he needed to. He just didn't like it. What was there even to talk about? He lived a boring, pampered life. He was top of his class, in both school and the academy, he had one girlfriend in high school, he was given promotion after promotion due to nepotism. He'd lived in the shadow of his grandfather his whole life.

A thought occurred to him.

"My grandfather, he… Uh. Met Big Boss."

That was a cool fact, right? He looked across the table, expecting to see David looking at least vaguely interested. Instead, he looked a little stiff. His eyes were fuzzy and his skin had paled slightly, as if hearing the name was like getting shot. Jack bit his lip, and looked to the side.

"Uh, sorry, I just thought-"

_May as well._

"Big Boss was my father," David said quietly. Oh. "I killed him." _Ohhhhh._

 

"I didn't…" Snake shrugged.

"It's in the past."

Silence fell between them again and Jack bit his lip. He grasped for a different subject. Snake didn't exactly look uncomfortable, but he could tell it took a lot for him to admit it. Like father like son as they say, but Jesus Christ. A family of super soldiers. Jack wet his lips. Pressed on.

"What about your brother?" Snake looked over to him, a complicated expression on his face. It softened and he sighed, looking at the ceiling.

"I let him go. They haven't found him yet," he said carefully, like he was protecting himself. Jack leaned against the table, slumping over a little.

"Family business is a little too casual of a term for you, don't you think?" Jack said, exasperated. Snake laughed, and it was a loud, sudden sound, almost like a dog's bark. Jack sat up, startled, and looked at him with his eyebrows raised. Snake was a strange man, with a very strange approach to emotions.

"My other brother is former president George Sears." Jack snorted.

"You're joking, yes?" Snake smirked slightly, and Jack rolled his eyes a little. Solid Snake did not joke around, of course. He slowly slumped down again, resting his cheek on his folded arms and looking up to Snake. "You've lived an interesting life…" he mumbled. Snake shrugged his shoulders.

"If that's what you want to call it."

More silence. All this silence was going to drive him mad. Jack huffed, pushed himself to his feet, took four steps, stepped over Snake's lap, and sat on the table. It probably wasn't meant to support a human body, but it was doing its best regardless. Snake looked up at him, something like amusement playing on his face. Jack took his unshaven cheeks in his hands, and kissed him heatedly. Snake kissed him back eagerly, pressed back against him until he was standing.

He tangled his hands in fair blond hair, tugging gently and pulling his face closer. The table creaked and whined with every movement, but he didn't really care. Snake pulled back, huffed, and looked away with a slight grin on his face.

"Wouldn't call this the most romantic conversation," his gaze trailed back to Jack, his grin growing more wolfish. "Location isn't ideal, either." Jack pouted a little, resting his hands on Snake's hips and looking up at him.

"Beggars are not choosers," he chided lightly.

"Can't be choosers," Snake corrected, as smugly as possible. Jack pinched his leg.

"It is a stupid saying anyways." They looked at one another, and then Jack began to laugh softly. He set his forehead against Snake's chest, and Snake ruffled his hair lightly. How long had they been awkwardly chatting? It had to be at least four by now. At least. Maybe longer? Jack yawned into the back of his hand at the thought and lifted his head.

"We'll be less clumsy about this eventually." Snake snorted.

"Eventually."

_God, what are we doing?_

 

And so they continued like that. Of course, Major Jack Raikov still had to put on a show. Their time spent in room 101 was accompanied by a little rough housing, though they mostly (Jack, mostly) talked. It was beginning to dawn on him that they had a little too much in common. Snake was tight lipped about himself, but he let a few things slip here and there, and Jack felt like he was collecting bread crumbs.

When had he become _this_ invested in Snake?

It felt a little too sudden. He absolutely let himself get sweet talked into this, but now he couldn't even fool himself. He ignored his phone more than ever, and was just thankful his grandfather was too busy to initiate conversation usually. General Raikov would chew him out until he went deaf if he ever heard of this.

Jack ran a hand through his hair, ruffled it a bit. It was getting a little long. Now that he was thinking about it, Snake could have also used a trim. Grooming your prisoners was a little, weird, though, so he supposed he would just have to live with those shaggy bangs and that slowly growing mullet. And the beard. Jack rubbed his chin, thankful but resenting that he couldn't grow much besides fuzz.

It was going on three weeks since Snake's arrival when he realised keeping him a secret was going to be a lot harder the longer this went on.

 

The past, week, had been interesting. Just because Jack was enamored with him didn't mean he pulled his punches, but Snake was having an… Interesting time. He hadn't been lying about wanting to know more about Jack, but that had mostly been so he could learn how to deceive him better.

However, he was noticing little things, like how he constantly tucked his hair behind his ears instead of cutting it shorter, or the little glimmer he got in his eyes when he listened to David talk. He was hanging on to little things he learned, too.

Jack didn't like coffee but he liked caffeine, and he loved American action movies. He was skilled not only with guns but with swords, which was a strange trait to have in the 21st century, but it was a little endearing. He broke up with his first and only girlfriend upon enlisting. He procrastinated and liked to learn weird English slang and idioms. In grade two he broke his arm by falling out of a tree. His mother's name was Caterina.

It was these little things that kept drawing David closer.

They sat across from one another in room 101. David was, for once, doing the talking. He talked about FOXHOUND. He never mentioned any names, but Jack liked to listen to his stories when he was willing to share. He was a little preoccupied, though, and it took David a couple minutes of storytelling to realise Jack wasn't particularly listening.

"Something on your mind, kid?" He still didn't like the nickname, but it was said so fondly he shrugged it off usually. Jack put his chin in his hands and looked at David, blue-green eyes narrowed just slightly.

"Let's strike a deal," he said, softly. David searched his face, and leaned back in his chair a little. There were several ways this could have gone, and David's brain was spitting out smoke trying to figure out which one it would be as he mulled over his answer.

"I'm listening," he said carefully, holding Jack's gaze. Jack forfeited and looked aside.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know, if you do the same. And I'll let you go."

David stared at his face, long and hard, trying to read him at all. He was going to be let go, just like that? He chewed on his cheek, continued to stare at the blond in front of him. Now there was the damn problem. His mission briefing was, well, just that: brief. Campbell had given him vague details, coordinates, and shipped him off. Of course, everyone knew the rise of nuclear tension had set this off, but what else was there to tell?

Even Otacon hadn't been able to dredge anything up.

Jack had a complicated look on his face, and Snake couldn't pinpoint what it was trying to convey. There was a little bit of… Well, everything. His brow furrowed just slightly, and his lips pursed the longer David postponed his answer. He sniffed, quietly.

_What will happen to us after that, then?_

David took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

"You said two weeks. Why don't my nanos work?" he said flatly. It was less of a question, and more of a demand. Jack continued to pout, and he twirled a lock of blond hair around his finger.

"All Russian bases are equipped with anti-nanomachine equipment. There is constant, eh… EMP? Yes? To disrupt frequencies. We also have developed a… A…" Jack struggled to grasp the words. His face screwed up in concentration a little, and his sighed. "A virus? A virus, I guess. It is a clear liquid with no taste we put into the water and it jams second generation nanomachines."

Jack wasn't lying when he said he would tell him _anything_. David hummed softly. He knew letting the doctors upgrade his nanomachines was a terrible idea. Jack sniffed again, still looking away. David stared at his hands for a moment, swallowed his dignity, just for right now.

"I'm going to be honest with you-"

"I would prefer it so." At least he could still be a snarky brat. David scratched his chin. He wanted to shave.

"I don't have anything." Jack's shoulders slowly slumped, until his elbows gave way and he lay face down on the cold metal table.

" _Pizdobol_! American dog," Jack muttered miserably. "They don't tell you anything over there, do they?" David grimaced slightly. He folded his hands on the table and waited for Jack to raise his head, and he didn't. He sighed reached over, and ruffled his hair. Jack groaned, dragged himself back up, and looked at him pitifully.

"Nothing?" he asked in a small voice. David pressed his lips into a line. " _Mudak_." Jack leaned his head back, carded a hand through his hair and sighed loudly.

"I'm here to steal information, not provide it," David huffed. Jack snapped back up and glared at him. There wasn't a lot of malice or fire behind it, just tired eyes staring at him. "If I could use my codec-"

"Out of the question. The, the, virus, takes too long to get out of your system," Jack held his tongue, and David raised his eyebrow. Too long? Jack ducked into himself and folded his arms over his chest, crossed his ankle over his knee. "And either way, the EMP is not controlled here." David clicked his tongue. Of course.

"What do you mean 'takes too long'?"

_Getting right to the point, huh._

Jack felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck, and he nervously picked at his nails.

"I haven't told anyone you're here. If they knew they would have taken you and put you some place worse or kill you immediately," Jack sighed, leaned on the table again, and pouted some more. "I wanted to finally do something worth recognizing instead of… of… Favouritism? _Semeystvennost'._ "

"Nepotism."

"Yes, _da_ , nepotism. My entire career has been handed to me on a silver platter. It doesn't. Feel good," Jack chewed on his lip, sighed again. "But I cannot hide you forever. So I thought…"

"We could trade intel, and you could help me escape before anyone else knew I was here." Jack swallowed, looked at the table, and groaned. Silence fell between them. This was his chance, and it was going to slip through his fingers. David ground his teeth and glared pointedly at the floor. He could probably still sweet talk his way out of this.

He just needed a little more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not a lot goes on here. sorry this SUCKS OTL  
> jack has a lot of Non-Native-Speaker moments in this, oopsies  
> TL//  
> Vstavay// get up  
> Pizdobol// bullshit  
> Semeystvennost'// u guessed it, nepotism


End file.
